


Close Call

by Nezclaw, Rochelle_Templer



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Early Days, First Meeting, Gen, Pre-Series, Tumblr RP, mention of responsible underage drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 39,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nezclaw/pseuds/Nezclaw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: Mike has no idea just how much is in store for him after he's roped into helping a random stranger avoid a bad situation.





	1. Chapter 1

> ### "Hi! I just need you to pretend like you know me."

Mike jumped as a complete stranger ran up to him and grabbed his arm. He jerked away and stared at the skinny figure grinning nervously at him.

“Uh, ok.” he said without thinking, too startled to react otherwise.

“Groovy, let’s go over here and get some hot dogs,” Micky said, pointing at the hot dog stand nearby. “My treat, ok?”

Micky looked all around him. He was pretty sure he had lost her, but then again, Tracy could be remarkably resourceful at all the wrong times.

“S-sure.” Mike replied. “I could go for a hot dog.” He’d hadn’t actually eaten today so he was pretty hungry. He was also still thrown off by the fact that the guy had approached him when there were plenty of other people for him to bother. What was his deal?

“Hey there Tony,” Micky said, waving at the guy who ran the hot dog stand. “One of the usual for me. Extra mustard and onions. And uh…say, what do you like on your hot dog? Don’t worry, Tony makes the best hot dogs, so get whatever you want.”

Micky looked over his shoulder again. It was only a matter of time before Tracy caught up with him, so he hoped that they’d get their hot dogs soon.

“Oh hey, what’s your name, by the way? Mine’s Micky.”

“Uh, Michael. An’… I don’t s’ppose you have chili as an option?” It wouldn’t be as good as he was used to of course, but it would be warm and filling.

“Certainly, certainly young man,” Tony nodded. “One ‘the works special’ and one ‘chili dog’ coming up.” The man immediately went to work, fishing out hot dogs and piling on toppings.

“Michael, huh. Neat,” Micky said, nodding. “You know, my name’s Michael too. Well, not really. It’s my middle name. My first name is actually George, but no one calls me that. So they’d call me Micky instead. Nice to meet ya, Mike.”

Mike stared at him. He also didn’t go by his first name?

“Nice to meet you Micky.” he said. He didn’t need to know about that, he decided. Besides, he barely knew the guy, and Mike wasn’t the sort to give out personal information to a guy he’d only just met. Even if he probably would be more understanding than most.

Micky smiled and nodded at him. “Nice to meet you too.” Just then Tony finished the hot dogs and held them out. “Yum, as scrumptious as ever, Tony. Thanks.” He fished some money out of his wallet and handed it over as Tony gave him his hot dog.

“Of course,” Tony nodded. “Anything for one of my best customers. I hope you enjoy your chili dog, young man.” The vendor handed the hot dog over to Mike and then went back to cleaning his stand.

“Hey, let’s go sit over here,” Micky said, pointing at a bench nearby.

Mike nodded his thanks before following Micky over to the bench. The hot dog smelled really good. He sat down on the bench, setting his guitar case down so he’d have both hands free before taking a bite of the hotdog.

It was better than he’d expected. The chili was still a bit underseasoned, but it was still pretty good. He chewed slowly, doing his best to not look like this was his first meal of the day.

Micky took a huge bite of his hot dog. It was as good as always, and he was pretty sure the mustard and all those onions would do the trick.

“Hey, you’re not from around here are you?” he said as he chewed. “You don’t sound like you’re from California. Where are you from? The south somewhere? Me, I’m from California. Born and raised. Um, how about Texas? Are you from there?”

Mike nodded.

“What of it?” he asked guardedly, taking another bite of his food. If this guy started making fun of him then he could forget about Mike helping him out.

“Nothing,” Micky shrugged. “I’ve got family from there and you sorta sound like them. So I just guessed. But hey, it’s cool that I guessed right. How’s your hot dog?”

Just then, a tall blond woman came around a corner and caught sight of them. “Micky!” she called. “There you are.”

“Uh oh,” Micky said, under his breath. He leaned in toward Mike. “Ok, um, this is the part where you need to act like you know me. Just, uh, play along, all right?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Mmkay.” Mike grunted. He wasn’t sure if he liked where this was going, but as long as Micky didn’t try to do something ridiculous like kiss him to convince the girl to leave him alone… he could probably afford to play along. Besides, he owed him that much for the food.

“Uh, hi Tracy, how’ve been?” Micky said, trying to smile. He shoved some more of the hot dog into his mouth and made sure to take a big bite before talking again. 

“I haven’t seen ya around,” he said as he chewed. “You still with Nigel?”

“No, of course not,” Tracy said, rolling her eyes. “Nigel just couldn’t keep up with me. Same old, same old. So now I need someone to go with me to Terry’s this weekend. Soooo…would you like to come?”

“Golly gee, I’d love to,” Micky said, slinging an arm around Mike’s shoulder. “But my old friend Mike just came all the way from Texas to visit me. I haven’t seen him in years and well….I’m sure you understand.”

Mike stiffened very slightly at the contact, but managed to keep himself from pulling away. So that was the plan. He swallowed his food and nodded politely.

“Yep. Just got in this mornin’. Awful sorry to’ve inconvenienced you ma’am, but this is th’ first chance I’ve got t’ make time ‘t visit my good pal Micky here on the coast.” he drawled.

“Oh, you’re cute,” Tracy said, grinning at Mike. “I love your accent. Micky, maybe your friend would like to come along with me. You could still come too. They’ll be plenty of room for everyone.”

“Gosh darn, that does sound great, but we’re….we’re gonna be too busy, right, Mike?” Micky said, forcing himself to laugh. “You know, catching up with my family and, and, checking out the beach, and and there was that new restaurant that opened up. That Chinese place. Boy, I’ve been wanting to take someone there and now Mike’s here and he really wants to go. So, ya know, we’re probably gonna be busy most the week with everything we’ve got planned.”

“I’m no good at parties anyway. There’s always too many people. I’d much rather just hang out with mah good pal Micky.” He slung his arm around Micky’s shoulder. He wanted him to play along? Then he’d play along if only to get this over with. He hated doing the stereotypical Texan act… but it seemed appropriate here. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was ever gonna see this guy again.

Micky blinked in surprised. He hadn’t expected Mike to get this into the role. The Texan hadn’t seemed that enthused about it before. But then again, maybe Mike had a sense of humor which was something Micky could appreciate. 

“That’s a shame,” Tracy said, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. “I guess I’ll have to go with Antonio then. Oh well….And maybe he can go with me to my beach house next weekend too. See you later. Oh and, nice meeting you.”

Tracy sauntered off and it wasn’t until she was out of view that Micky let out a long sigh of relief.

Mike quickly withdrew his arm from around the guy’s shoulders and turned his attention back to his food. After he had finished, he turned to face Micky.

“Care to explain what all that was about?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Huh? Oh yeah, that,” Micky said. He shoved the rest of his hot dog into his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his hands and shirt. 

“See, Tracy is nice and all, but well….she’s really flighty,” he said. “The last guy she got hung on ended up stranded in the middle of Mexico. Twice. And got trapped in a pyramid in Egypt. And Tracy was the reason for all of that. She kept doing stuff on the spur of the moment and it would just snowball out of control.”

Micky sat up and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I knew she was thinking of having me spend the weekend with her. ‘Cause we’d met at a friend’s party and she seemed more than a little interested. So I knew that I needed a good excuse to get out of going. I thought about hiding from her, but when I saw you….Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Huh.” Mike grunted. That seemed reasonable. “Why me?”

“Why not?” Micky said, shrugging. “You seem like a decent guy. Someone who’d be willing to help someone else out.”

Micky looked around and spotted a soda machine nearby. “Hey, are you thirsty? I got enough left for some Cokes.”

“Uh, sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.

“Groovy, I’ll be right back,” Micky said, leaping to his feet. 

He rushed over to the machine and dug around in his pockets for the coins he needed. Then he popped them in and put his hands down to grab the drinks when they came out. Only, they didn’t come out. 

“Aw come on,” Micky whined. He smacked the side of the machine and then kicked it a few times until it finally released two bottles. Triumphant, he popped the caps off and went over to hand one to Mike. 

“Thanks.” Mike said. He sipped his soda quietly.

“Thanks for helping me out,” Micky said. He clinked the bottles together and took a long swallow out of his. He finished his soda in three more gulps and sat the bottle down next to his feet.

“So, uh, why are you here in California?” he asked. “Are you visiting someone?”


	3. Chapter 3

Mike shook his head.

“Looking for work.”

“Oh, yeah, that can be tough,” Micky said, nodding. “I’m working at a couple of garages these days. It’s not steady, but I make enough to get by. My roommate picks up some more money by dish washing and playing on street corners. He’s a musician. So am I, really.”

“Huh. I guess y’all have a better idea of what people wanna hear in these parts than I do.” To be fair, Mike could play the stuff they liked here, but often the people looking to hire a musician automatically assumed all he could play was country because of his accent.

“I dunno, we haven’t gotten that many gigs,” Micky laughed. “Peter…that’s my roommate…he can play just about any instrument. And I can sing decently. But we can’t seem to get a following, ya know.”

Micky crossed and uncrossed his legs at the ankles before swiveling around to face Mike better. “Are you a musician too? What kind of stuff do you play?”

“This’n’that,” Mike shrugged, “Some country, some rock’n’roll, some R&B…”

“Groovy,” Micky said. “I can dig all of that. I can play all of that too. Well, I don’t play country much around here. Not as big of a following. But people like all kinds of stuff around here which is nice.”

He started to swing his legs back and forth. “You play guitar, right?” he said, pointing at the case near the Texan’s feet. “What kind? And do you sing too?”

“Twelve-string.” Mike said guardedly. He didn’t like to advertise the guitar he used, as it was a custom job he had gotten as a gift. “And no, I don’t sing.” That wasn’t entirely true. He could sing, and he kind of liked to sing, but his accent tended to lend a country flavor to anything he sang and he’d found people didn’t much go for that here.

“Twelve string, huh? That’s cool,” Micky said. He wasn’t sure how common that was around here, but Mike was definitely the first person he had met that played a twelve-string in this scene. 

“Hey, uh, you wanna go somewhere?” Micky asked. “I know somewhere we can go and see a free movie and maybe even get some more snacks.”

Micky wasn’t entirely sure why he had invited Mike or even if the Texan would want to come. But something inside him seemed to think it’d be a good idea to ask.

“I-” Mike hesitated. He should really get back to looking for work… but he hadn’t had a chance to relax in ages. Maybe he should take him up on his offer. Besides, he seemed nice enough…

Micky squirmed. He hadn’t wanted to make Mike feel uncomfortable, but now that he thought it through, it could seem weird to have a stranger run up, ask you to dupe someone else and then invite you to a movie. It wasn’t weird to him just because Micky tended to move quickly with relationships. But he was aware that others might not be as cool with it.

“Um, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said. “I just thought you might like it. They’re showing a double feature of one of my all time favorite actors. And the guy who runs the theater owes me a couple favors so he said I could come see it for free and bring someone along if I wanted. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

“All right. I got nothin’ else to do today.” Mike sighed, picking up his guitar case.

“Great!” Micky said, beaming at him. “Let’s go.”

Truthfully, he was relieved that Mike was willing to go with him. Peter hardly ever wanted to go to see black and white movies and none of the girls he had dated were interested in crime or mystery movies. And as much as Micky could enjoy a movie on his own, he thought it was a lot more fun to go with someone.

“Say uh, what kinds of snacks do you like?” he asked. “I think we can get popcorn, some cotton candy or a box of malt balls. Any of those sound good?”

“Uh, popcorn’s good.” Mike said. True, he’d be picking shells out of his teeth for the next few days, but he wasn’t that big on sweets either.

“Ok cool,” Micky nodded. “I think I’ll get some cotton candy. I haven’t had that for a while.” Plus, it was pretty and fun to eat which made up for the relative lack of discernible taste in Micky’s opinion.

“It’s just down the block here,” he said, pointing at the corner they were approaching. “They’ve got this great old-time looking theater. The guy’s father worked in it in the ‘30s so it even looks like something out of an old movie.”

“Huh.” Mike grunted as he followed Micky toward the theater. “What’s playin’?

“A pair of classics,” Micky beamed. “Both starring the inimitable James Cagney. _The Public Enemy_ and _White Heat_.”

“Mmm. Sounds like fun.” Mike had no idea, really. The names sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure if he’d seen them or not.

“It is,” Micky said. He stopped and started waving his hands around. “You, you dirty rat.” He wasn’t able to keep it up long though before laughing again.

“I’ve seen both of ‘em at least three times,” he added. “But they’re classics, so they never get old.”

Mike smiled slightly. This guy was weird, but in a good way. He still wasn’t sure why he was being so nice to him even after the ruse was over.

“If you say so.” he said. Still, it would probably wouldn’t hurt to be friends with someone who knew the area.

Micky grinned at him again and picked up his pace. He had lost track of time so they only had about ten minutes to get to the theater, get their snacks and grab some seats. 

“Do you like it here?” he asked. “I mean, here in California. I’m sure it’s really different than Texas.”


	4. Chapter 4

Mike shrugged.

“It rains more here. An’ the oceans pretty neat.” he said.

“Yeah, I love the ocean too,” Micky nodded. “And going to the beach. I live in an apartment now, but there’s this place me and my roommate were looking at. It’s right next to beach. I’m hoping someday to move in there. That would be really groovy.”

“Mmm.” Be nice to just have a place to stay at all, Mike thought. Better than sleeping outside when you never know if it’s gonna rain.

“Ah here we are,” Micky as they approached the theater entrance. He waved at a thin balding man who was standing by the ticket booth. “Hiya Murphy. Are we too late for the show?” 

“No no, plenty of time, Micky,” Murphy said with a slight smile. “Ah, I see you brought a friend. And here I thought you’d bring a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, maybe next time,” Micky said with a laugh. “Hey, can we get some snacks? I can pay you back this Friday.”

Mike nodded at the man at the booth. He remained quiet though, unsure of how to proceed. Micky must be pretty well known around these parts to be able to ask for something like that.

“Certainly,” Murphy nodded. “Go ahead and grab something for each of you. No charge. You can even get drinks. But I will need you to help me with a radio that I’m having problems with.”

“Sure, no problem,” Micky smiled. “I’ll see ya Friday. Come on, Mike.”

Micky waved the Texan toward the concession stand. After scanning it for a moment, he grabbed a bag of cotton candy, asked for a box of popcorn for Mike and helped himself to a small bag of roasted peanuts for good measure. 

“Hey, what kind of drink do you want?” he asked.

“Uh, water’s fine.” Mike said as Micky grabbed the snacks. And he was evidently good on his word if Murphy trusted him to pay him back come Friday. Hmm.

“Ok, and a Coke for me,” Micky said to the woman behind the concession counter. He handed Mike the drinks and headed back to the theater room where he knew Murphy showed all the older films. He spied a pair of seats in the back and pointed toward them. Then he grabbed a huge tuft of cotton candy and ate it as they made their way to sit down.

Mike awkwardly stowed his guitar underneath the seat before sitting down next to Micky.

Micky plopped down on the seat beside him and held out the box of popcorn while taking the Coke from Mike’s hands. Then he propped his drink, the peanuts and the cotton candy on the seat beside him and leaned back.

Just then the lights went down and Micky clapped before tearing off another chunk of cotton candy.

Mike accepted the popcorn and wondered, not for the first time, just what exactly he was doing seeing a movie with a complete stranger.


	5. Chapter 5

The movie started up and Micky was instantly enthralled. Even though he had seen it more than once, he couldn’t help but get excited every time Cagney came on the screen. He bounced in his seat and gestured wildly in response to the action. He would only stop long enough to chomp on cotton candy or crack open a peanut to eat.

Mike, in contrast, sat very still as he watched the film, only occasionally moving to eat a little popcorn and to see what Micky was doing. He’d never seen someone get so excited over a movie before. At least he wasn’t talking over the film. Actually, he found he found Micky’s antics fairly amusing. The movie was pretty good too.

In the back of his mind, Micky hoped that Mike was enjoying the movie. It was hard to tell given how muted Mike’s reactions to everything seemed to be. But for the most part, he was too focused on how much fun he was having to worry much about it.

At various points, he made machine guns with his fingers and pretended to shoot them during the action scenes.

Mike smiled very faintly as he observed Micky’s goofing around. He was enjoying this too, he found. It had been a while since he’d actually taken the time to see a movie. Micky’s shenanigans seemed to add to it too. His excitement was almost contagious, and Mike found himself glancing over to see what he’d do next in response to a scene.

By the time the bigger shoot outs where happening toward the end of the movie, Micky was too engrossed to do much more than just nibble on the rest of his cotton candy and grin as he watched. Although, he couldn’t stop himself from miming along with Cagney during his last scene in the film, complete with hand flourishes. 

Soon, the movie was over and the lights went up in the theater for intermission.

“Hey, uh, I’m gotta go pee before the next movie starts,” Micky said. “Could you watch my stuff for a sec?”

“Uh, sure.” Mike said, a little surprised that Micky would trust him to that. Mike certainly wasn’t going to leave his belongings with a guy he barely knew, even if it was just some food. Still, he wasn’t about to betray someones trust if he could help it. Even for something this small.

Micky grinned and thanked him before rushing out to the lobby. He managed to stop by and thank Murphy again for the free movie marathon before dashing back into the theater. He plopped down and took a long swig of his pop before cracking open some more peanuts.

“You can go ahead and go if you need to,” Micky said. “I’m pretty sure we got at least another five minutes before the next movie starts.”

Mike nodded, retrieving his guitar case before heading to the restroom. Yes, it was awkward to carry everywhere, but he wasn’t about to let it out of his sight for even the short time it took to use the bathroom. It was his only source of income, not to mention his most valued possession.

Micky raised an eyebrow when he saw Mike grab his guitar case and was about to offer to watch it for him. But then he figured that Mike would have just left it if the Texan was comfortable with letting someone else watch it, so he stayed silent.

Instead, he scooted down in his chair and broke up more peanut shells. A small part of him was worried that Mike wouldn’t come back. Even though he didn’t really know him, Micky knew he’d be hurt by that. 

Mike did return shortly, re-stowing his guitar under his seat before sitting down to wait for the next movie to start.

“Perfect timing,” Micky said as the lights when down in the theater again. then he took another long swig from his soda and faced the screen. 

He knew that _White Heat_ was a bit darker than _The Public Enemy_ , but Micky also thought that it was the better of the two. He hoped that Mike would agree.

Mike nodded and nibbled on some popcorn.

The movie started and Micky soon stopped eating so he could focus on the story. There were a few times when he couldn’t stop himself from squirming around in his chair and waving his hands around in response to the action. But overall, he was quieter for this movie than the other one.

Mike made note of that as he watched the movie, but he didn’t think too long on it for he was soon caught up in the story. His reactions were subtle, but he did lean forward slightly on a few occasions, his eyes widening.

The movie seemed to zip by as Micky watched Cagney’s continued spiral into complete madness. By the time the explosive finale at the chemical plant arrived, his mouth hung open with amazement. 

All too soon, the movie ended and the lights went up again in the theater. He swiveled in his seat and grabbed another peanut to open. “So, what did you think?”


	6. Chapter 6

Mike blinked, stunned.

“That was… intense.” he said finally.

“Yeah, wasn’t it?” Micky beamed. “Cagney’s such a great actor. I’ve seen a ton of his movies and they never get old.”

Micky practically bounced in his seat while he talked. He hadn’t been able to get any of his friends to go with him to these classic film festivals before. Usually, all they wanted to see were beach movies or the latest sci-fi flick. So it was exciting to have someone else to talk to about them.

Mike nodded.

“Yea, that was… wow.” he said, shaking his head in astonishment. “I see what y’meant.”

“Yeah,” Micky nodded again, still grinning. “I try to catch his movies whenever they come on TV, but there’s something about seeing them on the big screen, ya know.”

He stood up and drained the rest of his pop bottle, letting out a huge burp afterwards. His bag of peanuts wasn’t quite empty, but he figured he could keep the leftovers for a snack later. 

Mike gathered his things and rose as well.

“Thanks for the movies. I should probably get goin’ though. Nice meetin’ you.” He still didn’t know where he was going to stay tonight… but at least he’d eaten.

“Oh,” Micky said, a little disappointed. It might have been strange, given how little he knew him, but he was having fun with Mike. And he didn’t really want that to end right away.

“You sure you have to go?” Micky asked. “’Cause uh, well, I thought we could hang out. I know somewhere we can go to hear some really groovy music.”

“Well…” Mike hesitated. He _was_ having fun… and maybe there’d be someone who could use a guitar player. “Sure. Why not.”

“Great,” Micky grinned, pleased that Mike had gone along with his plan. “It’s just a couple of blocks from here. And it’s the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh. Ever hear of it? I don’t blame you if you haven’t. They’re kinda new, but I think they’re really outtasite.” 

“If you say so.” Mike said with a shrug.

“All right, let’s go,” Micky said. He stuffed the peanuts into one his pockets and gathered up his trash. As he walked out of the theater, he threw everything away into a garbage can and waved at Murphy one more time before walking outside.

Mike followed suit, discarding his trash in the receptacle and trailing along behind Micky as he headed out of the theater.

Micky pointed in the direction they needed to go in and then adjusted his pace so he could walk side by side next to Mike.

“I’m pretty sure they’re having their ‘Local Band Night’ tonight,” he added. “So you’ll get a chance to see some of the guys that play a lot around here. Most of them are pretty decent. Just stay away from the Four Swine.”

Mike nods.

Micky shoved his hands into his pockets while he walked. “So um, I’m pretty sure the Jolly Green Giants and the Martians will be there. They’re kinda weird, but they do some decent stuff. Oh and the Secret Agents. They mainly do stuff you’d hear in a spy movie. But it’s actually pretty decent to dance to.”

Micky wasn’t sure if Mike was interested in the bands around here, perhaps seeing them as competition, but he figured that it was better to give a heads up for the kind of stuff they’d be seeing tonight.

Mike nodded again as he followed Micky down the street, wondering yet again why he was doing this. He was just going to check out the scene with someone who knew it pretty well. That’s all.

“Ah-ha, there it is,” Micky said, waving a hand in front of it. “And it sounds like there’s already a pretty groovy crowd inside.”

He started to walk toward the door when he suddenly got another idea and whirled around to Mike.

“Say….how about we do something tonight? You’ve got a guitar and I can sing. And I’m not bad at all, if I do say so myself. How about we do a song?”

“I s’pose…” It might not be a bad idea, actually. As long as he didn’t have to sing, he could probably make it work. He knew most of the more popular songs.

“Groovy!” Micky grinned. He bounced in excitement and moved closer to Mike. “So uh, what songs do you know? You said you knew some R&B and rock stuff. Any songs in particular you like?”

Mike shrugged.

“Not really. I know most of th’ more popular stuff. An’ if I don’t, well if you hum a few bars I c’n probably fake it.”

Micky blinked. Had Mike just made a joke? Sure, it was old and corny and delivered in a completely serious style, but old and corny were some of Micky’s favorite traits for humor. 

“Well, I was thinking of doing something a little off the beaten path,” Micky laughed. “Hey, do you know any of Carole King’s songs? I was thinking of doing _Sometime In the Morning_.

“I think so…” Mike said, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to recall the chords. “Yeah, I know that one.” How would it sound with Micky singing it? Hopefully not terrible…

“Great, let’s go with that,” Micky beamed. “They’ll have a part where people can go up on stage. And I know one of the guys who runs the place, so he’ll let us on, I’m sure. Come on.”

He waved Mike inside and they were greeted with the sight of the Jolly Green Giants performing onstage.

“Yo ho ho! Yo ho HO!!”

“Man, I almost forgot about how they keep doing that,” Micky said under his breath as he made his way to the bar.

Mike followed close behind, uncomfortable with the number of people milling around and feeling extremely conspicuous in his ragged clothing. He glanced up at the stage.

“Do they dress up like that every time?” he asked Micky quietly.

“Yeah, I think that’s part of their act,” Micky nodded. “It must work somewhat ‘cause they keep getting gigs. I mean, people certainly remember ‘em, right?”

Micky spotted Dave behind the bar and waved at him. “Hey, uh, Dave, can me and my friend here do a song after the Giants are done?”

“I don’t know, Micky,” Dave said. “Can you?” 

Micky smirked at him as Dave laughed. “Hardy har har,” he said. “But really, Dave, how about it?”

“Sure you can go,” Dave said. “Knock yourself out.”


	7. Chapter 7

Mike nods his thanks. He remains fairly close to Micky, mostly because he was familiar with him. He didn’t like being in strange places around strange people. Plus, Micky’s familiarity with the area and the people, and the ease with which he interacted with them, meant that hopefully no one would try to mess with someone in his company.

Micky grinned and looked around the club. The crowd seemed to be in a good mood tonight which was always good. And it sounded like the Giants were going to do at least one more song before finishing up.

“Hey, come on, Mike,” he said, waving toward the stage. “We can go backstage to get ready so you can check your guitar and whatnot if you need to.”

Mike nodded, following Micky backstage. That was a good idea.

Backstage, he sat down with his case across his lap. He hesitated momentarily, since Micky was watching him, but opened his case anyway and withdrew his guitar. It was undamaged, much to his relief.

Would Micky recognize it?

Micky’s eyes lit up when he saw the blonde Gretsch guitar that Mike pulled out. Not only did it look nice, it looked custom made, which implied that it was probably extremely valuable.

“This is your guitar?” he asked, moving in to get a closer look. “Wow. That’s really groovy. Where did you get it from?”

“It was a gift.” Mike said shortly as he checked the tuning.

“Really?” Micky replied. “Man, that’s an awesome gift. I bet it sounds great.”

Micky left the backstage for a moment to get a glass of water. When he returned, he saw that Mike was still fiddling with his guitar.

“Uh, anyway, I think I’m going to go slow with it, ok?” he said. “You can start playing the chords and I’ll sing at the pace you set, all right?”

Mike nodded, finally satisfied with the tuning.

“Ok.” He rose to his feet and followed Micky out when the band had finished. Once onstage, he put aside the crowd staring at him and concentrated on playing. He had a few false starts, but soon enough he remembered the correct chord progression and the music flowed out into the room.

Micky nodded along with the music, swaying around as if the stutters before Mike got a handle on the music were part of the performance. After a few words to charm the audience, Micky launched into the lyrics.

_“Sometime in the morning/ A simply thought may occur to you/ And you’ll hold her.”  
_

Micky moved close to the microphone and half closed his eyes as he focused on his vocals.

Mike was astonished at how well Micky sang. He had a good voice. Mike was actually a bit disappointed when the song came to an end. He liked performing like this. Usually it was just him when he played, and no one wanted to hear his accent when he sang. But this… this was nice.

Micky grinned and bowed as enthusiastic applause came at the end of the song. As it turned out, Mike was a good guitar player. Better than he was. At that moment, Micky wished he could play with Mike more often. 

“Hey, uh, let’s do an encore real quick,” he said, moving close to Mike to mutter in his ear. “Do you know  _Every Day_ by Buddy Holly?”

Mike nodded. That one was easier, and he started playing again.

Micky tapped his feet as Mike played the opening chords and then he danced around the microphone while he sang. Technically, he didn’t have to do another song, but he had a feeling that ending off with an upbeat song would be a good idea.

Every once in a while, he noticed that Mike kept his head down and focused on his playing while performing. Not that Micky minded. The Texan was playing too well for him to complain.

Once they were done, Micky bowed dramatically with sweeping arms. “Thank you, thank you. You’re a wonderful crowd.”

Mike looked up at the crowd, a slight smile crossing his features. This was why he’d come out here. For the music. He followed Micky offstage.

As Micky walked off the stage, David handed him some money.

“From the boss,” he said. “He liked how you played tonight. Made the kids real happy. So if you wanna play here again, just give us a call.”

“Thanks man,” Micky beamed at him. He looked down to see that he’d been handed a pair of tens. 

Mike looked over Micky’s shoulder at the money Micky had received, eyes widening slightly.

“You gonna use that to pay back the guy at the theater?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m already paying him back by helping him with that radio,” Micky nodded. “This money’s mine.” He looked down at the cash in his hand and then held out one of the tens to Mike. “I mean, it’s ours. Here’s your half.”

Mike’s eyes widened further. He’d thought he’d have to argue to get a share.

“Th-thank you.” he said as he took the money. He could probably make this last a few days if he was careful.

“No problem,” Micky said, grinning. “I wouldn’t have got anything if it weren’t for you, so you earned it. You’re a great guitar player.”

A burst of cheering started up, indicating that another band was taking the stage. “Hey, you wanna go check out any of the other bands?”

Mike shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do, being a bit thrown off by the fact that he’d actually managed to make some cash today. He still didn’t know where he was going to sleep tonight, but at least he’d be able to eat.

Micky was torn. He kind of wanted to see some more of the bands and maybe say hi to a couple of people that he knew. Then again, he was having fun with Mike and didn’t want to let that fizzle out just because the Texan wasn’t in the mood to be as social.

“We don’t have to stick around,” he offered. “I’ll be seeing most of these guys around over the next couple of days. And I’ve got an errand I probably should get to anyway.”

Mike nodded. He was sure that if he stayed people would be encouraged to approach him and pester him with questions that he didn’t really want to answer, like where he came from, where he’d gotten his guitar, etc. And he was enjoying Micky’s company, oddly enough. That didn’t happen often at all.

“Ok, I can dig that,” Micky nodded. “Just let me say bye to a couple people and we can go.” He headed up toward the bar and thanked David and waved at the Jolly Green Giants before heading for the exit.


	8. Chapter 8

Mike followed, relieved to be out of the club.

“Where we going now?” he asked Micky.

“I really need to run by the grocery store,” Micky answered. “Now that I got a little extra money, I can get more than just canned tuna and bread. In fact, I could probably spring for something special. So….”

Micky moved to walk in front of Mike, walking backwards as the Texan walked toward him.

“How about you come by my place and have dinner?” he said. “We can have roast chicken and potatoes and maybe we can try playing some more songs together.”

“Your roommate won’t mind?” Mike asked.

“Nah, he likes pretty much everyone,” Micky said. “Peter is a real hippie type. So he’s all about the peace, love and understanding thing. I’ll warn you though, he’s a little….odd at times. But again, a real nice guy.”

Micky strolled over to the nearest grocery store and sauntered in. He grabbed a grocery cart and started walking down the nearest isle.

“We don’t got a lot of money to spend, so I try to get stuff that’s cheap,” Micky said as he looked around. “And stuff that I can cook ‘cause Peter’s not allowed to cook.”

Mike nodded. He knew the feeling of not being able to afford much in the way of food all too well.

“Er, if you don’t mind me askin’… why isn’t Peter allowed to cook?” he asked as he watched Micky peruse the selection at hand.

“Oh uh, because he can’t cook,” Micky replied. “I mean, he can’t do it well. At all. I mean, the stuff he comes up with….” Micky shuddered and grabbed a couple of cans of vegetables from the shelf in front of him.

“One time, he tried to make tomato soup out of ketchup and vegetable broth,” he continued. “And another time, he tried to make strawberry cake by using strawberry flavored ice cream in the mix.”

Micky stuck out his tongue in disgust as he reached for a box of Corn Flakes.

“Ah.” Mike said. That sounded _horrible_. He stood in silence for a few moments, then spoke again.

“Michael isn’t my first name either.” he said quietly. Micky had earned that knowledge, in his mind. He’d done so much for a guy he barely knew… and it seemed like he at least should know that they had that in common.

“It’s not?” Micky said, looking over at him in surprise. “What’s your actual first name then? It’s not George too, is it?”

That really would be a weird coincidence, but Micky had seen too many strange things to dismiss the possibility that it could happen.

Mike shook his head.

“It’s Robert.“ he muttered.

“Nice to meet you Robert Michael…say, uh, what’s your last name?” Micky asked. “Mine’s Dolenz. Yeah, I know…it’s a bit weird, but it’s Italian. My dad is….” Micky let out a quick sigh. “He was Italian and didn’t want to change it.”

Micky pushed the cart along, grabbing a loaf of bread as he did so.

 'Blessing’, the name Mike usually used when looking for work, hung on his lips for a moment, but at the last moment he changed his mind.

“Nesmith.” he said, giving his real name. It didn’t seem that strange compared to ‘Dolenz’, he thought wryly. “Robert Michael Nesmith.”

“Pleased to meet you, Robert Michael Nesmith,” Micky said, holding out his hand to shake. “I’m George Michael Dolenz, but you can still call me Micky.” 

He gave Mike’s hand a firm shake before starting to search for cans of soup. “My roommate’s name is Peter Tork. He might not remember to introduce himself, so it’s probably a good thing I tell you ahead of time.”

Mike shook Micky’s hand.

“Is there anything else I should know before meeting him?” Mike asked. “Aside from that he can’t cook?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Micky said, turning his attention back to the aisles. “Like I said, he’s a nice guy if a little weird. Ok, a lot weird, but not in a bad way.”

Micky grabbed a box of spaghetti and a large can of tomatoes. It had been a while since he had had spaghetti and he found himself with a craving for it.

“Mmm.” Mike grunted. “If you say so.” He went quiet again, silently observing Micky’s selections.

Micky spied a bag of potatoes and grabbed it before heading over the meat counter. He hoped that Mike would like Peter, although he couldn’t imagine why the Texan wouldn’t. Peter was a hard guy to dislike really.

Micky waved at the butcher. “Heya Marcus. I was looking for some chicken. Got something cheap for me?”

“Hello Micky, how is your mother?” Marcus answered. “And I think I have just the thing. Some leftover thighs from a large order I had earlier today. I can give them to you for half price. And I’ll even throw in a pound of bacon for a dollar more.”

“Groovy, I’ll take it,” Micky grinned. “Thanks man.”

Mike considered to stand quietly behind Micky. This exchange seemed to further support the idea that Micky was pretty well known here. He waited patiently as Micky completed his transaction with the butcher.

Micky waited until the butcher had finished wrapping up the meats before thanking him again and going back to the aisles. There were so many things he wished he could buy, but he knew that he couldn’t go overboard. He grabbed a cheap bag of pretzels so he and Peter could have a snack around the apartment before heading to the checkout.

“Did you wanna get anything?” he asked before stepping up to the cashier.

Mike shook his head. He was all set for toiletries for the moment, and he didn’t have anywhere to keep any purchases anyway.

“Ok, then let’s head back to my place,” Micky nodded. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else you wanna go to.”

Micky fished the stuff out of the cart and waited while it was checked and bagged. Thankfully, his spontaneous addition of chicken and potatoes only put him about five bucks over budget. He was about to pay when he spied some large, colorful suckers on a nearby counter for only ten cents apiece. He grabbed three of them and added them to his groceries.

Mike watched, mildly perplexed.

“No, I don’t have anywhere else t’be.” he said. They were for dessert, he supposed.

Micky noticed Mike watching him take the candy and laughed. “Peter really likes these big suckers. And…I dunno I thought they’d be fun for us to share too after dinner.”

It was a bit childish, sure, but Micky liked doing kid-oriented things once in a while. It was a good way to prevent himself from taking life too seriously.

“Don’t really like candy.” Mike mumbled, looking away. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat one of those all at once, and it wasn’t like he could save it for later either. Still, it was better to mention it now, right? Rather than Micky get annoyed when he declined later on.

Micky shrugged and picked up his bag of food. “That’s fine. Peter would probably like to have another one at some point anyway. I can just save it for him.”

He was a little disappointed that he couldn’t get Mike a dessert that the Texan liked, but then again, they could always just have coffee afterwards instead.

Mike nodded, relieved that Micky wasn’t going to make a big fuss out of it. He didn’t think he would, but you never knew. He trailed after Micky as he walked outside with the groceries.

“Uh… you need help carryin’ those or something?” he asked quietly, even though he was already laden down with his guitar and bag.

“Nah, I got it,” Micky said, hoisting the bag up against his hip. “It’s good exercise and will get me nice and hungry again for dinner.”

He didn’t mention that he also didn’t want to make Mike carry more bags when the Texan was already carrying a guitar and a duffel bag on top of that. It seemed like a lot to just go playing guitar around town…until Micky wondered if Mike had a place to go home to.


	9. Chapter 9

Mike nodded his understanding and followed Micky as he carried his groceries back to his apartment. He was still wondering about this roommate Micky had mentioned… just what exactly did he mean by ‘weird’?

Micky walked up the steps of his apartment building and up to the second floor where his place was. He fiddled with the doorknob and found that it was unlocked. That meant that Peter was probably home.

“Hey Peter,” he said, walking in. “Where are you? I’ve got food.”

Less than thirty seconds later, Peter came out to meet Micky wearing lei of fake flowers and a grass skirt over his jeans. 

Mike stared. Ah. _That’s_ what he meant by ‘weird’. He remained silent, unsure of how to react. He hadn’t expected something like this…

“Hi Micky,” Peter said, grinning at him. “Oh hey, hi to you too, um…..”

“This is Mike,” Micky said, setting the bag down onto the table. “He’s joining us for dinner.”

“Hi Mike,” he said cheerfully with a wave. “I’m Peter, pleased to meet you.”

“Pete, what’s with that get-up?” Micky asked, sighing. 

“Oh um, you know Nick, from The Pit,” Peter said. “He invited us to a luau this weekend and I thought I should practice.”

“Howdy.” Mike nodded to Peter as he maintained a carefully neutral expression. At least he had a semi-reasonable explanation for his getup, although Mike had to wonder how much practice you really needed for a luau. Not that he’d ever actually been to one, but he’d seen movies where the characters did, and it didn’t look that complicated…. although he’d probably manage to make a fool of himself anyway. He stood awkwardly behind Micky, unsure of what to do next.

“Peter, I kinda doubt they’re gonna ask us to do a hula dance,” Micky snorted. “You go to luaus to eat and have a good time.”

“Well…maybe doing a hula dance would be a good time,” Peter replied. 

“I’m not even gonna ask where you got the skirt,” Micky said, shaking his head. “Just…make sure the dishes are clean and set the table, will ya? I’m gonna make us some chicken and potatoes tonight.”

“Oh boy, I love chicken,” Peter said, grinning. Then he looked over at Mike. “Hey, is that a guitar? Do you play?”

Mike blinked, momentarily thrown by the change in topic.

“Uh, yeah, some.” He looked around. “Is there somewhere i could put this…?” It wasn’t a very large room, after all, and his guitar and bag took up about another persons worth of space.

“Oh sure, yeah, you can sit it here,” Peter said, motioning to a space next to the couch. “I play guitar too. And organ. And piano. And banjo…but my banjo needs repairing.”

“Hey uh, Pete, what about the table?” Micky called from the kitchen. 

“Oh yeah, right,” Peter said. “Make yourself at home.” Peter smiled one last time and rushed over to grab some plates and silverware.

Mike set his guitar and bag down and sat down on the couch. It was worn, as was most of the other stuff, but comfortable enough. Guitar, organ, piano, and banjo? Wow. It was a bit intimidating to be around someone who could play all those instruments, or at least it would be if it was anyone else. Peter seemed like one of the least intimidating people out there.

He closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, glad of the chance to get a little quiet. He hadn’t realized just how much being around Micky had worn him out. It didn’t help that the couch was really comfy. He probably would have dozed off right there, but the sounds coming from the kitchen pretty much nullified that idea. Did they really need to bang the pots and pans that much?

“Ok,” Micky said, clapping his hands together as he walked into the front room. “I’ve got the food in the oven. It should be done in about an hour. So um, what would you like to do until then?”

Micky plopped down onto the floor. As he did, he noticed that Mike had closed his eyes and wondered if he should have just stayed in the kitchen with Peter.

Mike jumped at Micky’s handclap, looking around in momentary panic before relaxing again. His stuff was still there too. That’s good.

He shrugged in response to Micky’s query.

“I just wanted to rest my feet a little.”

“Oh. Ok,” Micky said nodding. He hadn’t thought that Mike might be tired by now. The two of them hadn’t done that much, but then again, Micky didn’t know what Mike might have been doing before they met. He got up to his feet and started to head to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” he said. “Just yell if you need anything.”

Mike nodded, and closed his eyes again. He felt a little guilty about lying like that, but he didn’t really want to say that he needed a little time to himself to recover, because he had enjoyed Micky’s company. He just needed a little space. He closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the couch nearest his guitar.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Micky leaned against the counter and listened to Peter ramble on about his day while washing up some dishes. He was a little concerned that he had pushed Mike into spending the day with him out of obligation and wondered if the Texan was actually enjoying himself. Micky hoped he was. 

“Hey Micky, how long have you and Mike been friends?” Peter asked.

“Oh uh…we just met today,” Micky said. Were they friends? Micky wasn’t entirely sure.

Mike, meanwhile, had drawn his knees up to his chest and had started to doze off. The couch was far comfier than the surfaces he usually ended up sleeping on, and he could really use the rest. He pulled his bag closer to him, using it as a pillow.

At one point, Micky crept out to check on Mike, and seeing that the Texan looked asleep, he decided to leave him be. 

Instead, he chatted with Peter about going with Mike to the movies and what movies they saw. Then they played with some dominoes for a while until the food was close to being ready. Peter cleaned up the rest of the kitchen while Micky went out to the front room to wake Mike up.

“Hey uh, Mike…dinner’s about ready.”

Mike jerked awake and yelped in alarm. What…? Where was…? How had he…? He flailed about in panic, nearly falling off the couch before he realized that his guitar case and bag were still there, and Micky was gazing at him with some concern. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that… He met Micky’s eyes briefly before looking away and rising to his feet.

“Sorry about that.” he mumbled.

Micky took a step back. He felt bad about scaring Mike that way and wished he could have been a little more careful about it. “No, that’s ok. Sorry I startled ya. Anyway, um…dinner’s about ready. So if you want to use the restroom or anything, it’s right there next to the bedroom.”

Mike blinked a few times.

“Oh, uh, right.” he mumbled as he went to wash his hands, still embarrassed about how he had reacted. Micky’d been nothing but kind to him… He returned to the kitchen, standing awkwardly in the entrance, watching them set the table. It smelled really good.

Micky pulled the chicken out and sat it out in the middle of the table along with a carving knife and a serving fork to scoop out the vegetables.

“I’m glad now my mom gave me this spare silverware when I moved out,” Micky said. “Man, I never thought I’d use this stuff.”

He cut the chicken into a few pieces and served himself some potatoes. Then he turned to Mike. “What did you want to drink? We got water, orange juice and some cherry Kool Aid.”

“Uh… orange juice is fine.” Mike said, sitting down. Looking at the food, he mouthed a prayer quietly to himself out of habit. His mom had always done that when they actually were able to put together a proper meal. He didn’t know what sort of ritual they had for dinner, if any, and was a bit too nervous to ask.

Micky noticed Mike mouthing something, but didn’t comment on it. Coming from a family with a lot of Italian members who were Catholic, he was pretty sure that Mike was saying grace. And while he didn’t hold any organized religious beliefs himself anymore, he could respect that others still did.

Peter got up and poured some orange juice in a glass for Mike while getting out a pitcher of water for himself and Micky. Then he sat down and Micky carved up more of the chicken and served some to both Mike and Peter.

“Man, I’m starved,” he said. “I bet I could eat three chickens if someone dared me to.”

“Thank you.” he said as Micky served him. It was a pretty generous portion, and he wondered if they’d object if he didn’t finish it all. He chuckled slightly at Micky’s comment.

“Only if you catch them first.” he said softly. Micky probably would be able to chase down a couple live chickens. He certainly had the energy for it.

“Nah, I’d let someone else do that,” Micky chuckled, grinning at Mike. “I figure if they’re gonna dare me to eat ‘em, the least they could do is supply those chickens.”

Micky shoved a huge bite of potato and chicken into his mouth. The food had turned out well and he soon realized that the sodas and theater food from earlier had worn off. Which reminded him that he still had a bag of peanuts in his pocket. He’d have to take care of that after he was finished eating.

Mike ate more slowly. The food was really good. He focused on his food, not really saying anything. It had been a while since he’d eaten like this.

Micky gulped a lot of his food down, relishing the chance to have a filling meal that didn’t involve beans or oatmeal. He scooped out some more of the potatoes and poured himself a large glass of water to wash everything down.

“Hey uh, Mike, did you want something for dessert?” Micky asked. “We’ve got some popsicles in the freezer. Or we could just have some coffee or something.”

Mike nodded as he finished his food.

“Yeah… that sounds good.” He liked coffee. As long as Micky didn’t dump excessive amounts of sugar in it… which was probably a very real possibility.

“Ok, groovy,” Micky said. He jumped up from the table and got a pot going in the coffee maker. Then he sat down to help himself to some more of the food.

“I could have made dessert,” Peter said as he cleaned off his plate. “I learned how to make cake last week.”

“You made something,” Micky scoffed. “But I wouldn’t call it cake.”

Mike was astonished at how much food Micky was able to put away. Where did it all _go_? He was a pretty skinny guy from what Mike could see. Still, it made Mike feel better about taking a little more food.

“What would you call it then?” he asked quietly. Considering what Micky had told him about Peter’s cooking skills…

“A monstrosity,” Micky said without missing a beat. “An experiment gone wrong. An attempt to come up with a culinary weapon. But whatever it was, it wasn’t food.”

Micky took a long swig of water. He was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be any leftovers with the speed that the food was being devoured. Not that he minded. He knew he was hungry as was Peter probably. And Mike…even though he didn’t show it overtly, he might have been the hungriest of them all. So Micky reasoned that it would be nice if they all had a chance to feel full for a change.

Mike chuckled as he ate. He was pleased to notice that there was no malice in Micky’s teasing of his roommate. If there had been he probably would have left right then. He sipped his juice, ate the last couple of potatoes on his plate, and set down his cutlery, feeling rather stuffed.


	10. Chapter 10

Peter pouted, but soon came out of that as a new inspiration hit him. “You won’t think that when you try my next dessert idea,” he said. “The guy at the soda shop said I could have all the flavored syrup I needed. Then you’ll see.”

Micky grimaced and shoved another piece of food into his mouth so he could avoid saying anything. He noticed that Mike was done eating and that Peter was slowing down. There was one last good sized chunk of chicken and potatoes left, so he decided to finish them off in lieu of a more filling dessert.

Mike was glad he wasn’t going to be around for that. He continued to sit quietly, unsure if he should contribute to the conversation, and not wanting to seem rude by getting up before the others were finished.

“Oh hey, Pete, I got something for you,” Micky said as he chewed. “Go check out that bag. I put it toward the top.”

Peter nodded and got up from the table. After only a second of rummaging, he found on of the suckers and pulled it out with a huge grin on his face.

“Thanks Micky,” he said, beaming. He immediately pulled the wrapper off and started to lick the edges of the candy.

Mike stood, plate in hand, and carried it over to the sink to wash it off. He didn’t like to leave a mess, and he wasn’t sure what else he should do. Conversation wasn’t really one of his strengths, and he was feeling kinda uncomfortable just sitting there.

Micky scrapped the rest of the food on his plate and shoved it into his mouth before swiveling around to see what Mike was doing.

“Oh hey, Mike, just set that plate in the sink,” he said, after gulping down the food in his mouth. “We’ll take care of it tomorrow. Grab yourself a cup of coffee if you want. It should be about done by now.”

Mike nodded, pouring some coffee into a mug and going to sit back down on the couch. He sipped his beverage.

Micky soon finished his food and put his and Peter’s plates into the sink. Peter cleared the rest of the stuff off the table while still continuing to lick at his lollipop. Micky thought about eating his, but decided he wasn’t in the mood for a sucker. He stuck his leftover peanuts into the cupboard along with the rest of the groceries and eventually spotted a box of Good and Plenty that no one had eaten yet. 

Micky wasn’t huge on licorice, but decided to snack on it anyway, grabbing the box and heading for the front room.

Mike sat curled up on the couch next to his things, sipping coffee as he saw Micky enter. He remained quiet as he blinked drowsily. Hopefully the coffee would get rid of that feeling, although he did sorta still want to take a nap.

“Hey Mike, wanna listen to some music?” Micky asked as he plopped down onto a nearby chair. “Or we can watch some TV. I think they’re having a sci-fi movie night tonight.”

“Yeah,” Peter chimed in, sitting down on the floor. “Our TV’s not great, but we usually get at least two channels. Sometimes three. And it’s color.”

“Uh, sure.” Mike said. He was too worn out to protest, really. He didn’t know what was going on anymore. He was full of food, he was in a house with friendly people, he had ten bucks in his pocket, and he had all his things with him. This was after he’d helped a complete stranger fool a chick and been dragged to the movies.

It couldn’t last.

Micky elected to go with the movie on TV. Even though they had just watched a pair of movies this afternoon, this was the sort of thing that a person could just watch sporadically or closely, depending on what else was going on in the room.

And it could be something a person could fall asleep to. Which, judging from Mike’s drooping eyes, Micky guessed could be a distinct possibility.

He turned the set on and after several careful adjustments of the antenna and one hard slap, the picture came into focus.

Mike stared at the TV, trying to parse what he was seeing. There was a giant cockroach? And lasers, and some other lizard creature… Giant cockroaches with laser beams versus giant lizardmen. Or something.

The coffee wasn’t helping much at all, he reflected. He was still growing sleepy. He didn’t want to fall asleep… he drank some more coffee and set the mug down nearby.

Micky cackled with glee when he saw what was coming on the TV and moved back onto his chair to watch. Peter rolled his eyes some, but he started watching as well. This was the perfect kind of movie to watch after a big meal and a strange day. 

At least, it might have seemed strange to other people. It didn’t seem all that weird to Micky. Sure, he convinced a total stranger to go along with a charade and then took him home for dinner, but then again, if he didn’t approach any strangers, he wouldn’t get a chance to get to know anyone new.

Mike blinked slowly. Micky seemed to be enjoying the movie. Mike wasn’t sure what was going on, and soon his eyes drifted shut as the background noise lulled him. He was exhausted. He curled up into a tighter ball and tugged his hat down over his eyes… and was soon fast asleep.

“Micky, I think the cockroaches are bringing people back to life,” Peter said. Micky gave him a sideways look.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you see them take out that whole town just a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, that’s just it, that one guy there was a milkman, wasn’t he?” Peter said, pointing at the screen. “But now he’s working in the malt shop.”

Micky chuckled and patted Peter’s arm. The bassist was right. It definitely was the same actor. But he liked Peter’s fanciful ideas a lot more than the likely, albeit cynical possibility that the people making the film had simply forgotten about that and carried on.

Mike shifted a little, clutching his bag closer to him. He was warm and comfortable. His shoes were still on, but he didn’t usually take his shoes off when he slept anyway. Kept them from getting lost.

Micky had spotted Mike moving in the corner of his eye. The Texan was clearly fast asleep by now. He poked Peter and pointed at Mike so Peter would know to keep his voice down from now on. 

The two of them watched the rest of the movie, enjoying it with a chorus of muffled laughter and snarky remarks. Once it was over, Peter turned the TV off and pointed at Mike again, as if to ask what they should do about him.

Mike didn’t notice.

Micky watched Mike sleep for a moment before answering. “He seems comfortable like that. Let’s let him sleep there. He did me a favor, so this can be one back.”

Technically, he had repaid Mike by going to the movies with him, but that benefited Micky too so that didn’t seem to count.

Mike mumbled something incomprehensible, but remained asleep.

Micky and Peter finished cleaning things up and putting stuff away, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. Then Peter went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Micky scratched his head and yawned as he went back out to check on Mike. He felt weird about having Mike sleep on the couch like that, but then again, they only had two beds. And the Texan looked comfortable enough. 

He was about to turn off the light when a thought occurred to him. He crept over to the bedroom and got a spare blanket out of the closet. Then he went back out to the front room and carefully draped it over Mike.

“Good night,” Micky said as he turned out the light and walked into the bedroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Mike woke a few hours later.

What the…

Where was he? And more importantly, _where was his guitar_?! He flailed around in a panic until his hand smacked something. He felt it, and to his relief it was his case. And his guitar was still there.

His panic faded, to be replaced by a sense of deep confusion. They’d let him stay? They barely knew him! And… where had this blanket come from? Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but again, they barely knew him. Heck Peter didn’t know him at all.

After a few moments thought, Mike took his bag and headed into the bathroom. He needed to brush his teeth at least. With that done, he changed into a pair of ragged pajamas and carefully folded the clothes he had been wearing. Hopefully he could get a few more days’ use before he needed to wash them. That done he returned to the couch and was quickly asleep again, one arm wrapped around his guitar case.

Micky slept in the next morning, not willing to get up before nine AM. Peter got up earlier and yawned as he stopped by the bathroom and then headed to the kitchen to think about what he wanted for breakfast. He had seen Micky get some eggs and wondered if they could have that with something. Maybe cereal.

As he walked to the fridge to see what they had, Peter passed by Mike and saw that the Texan was still there. He smiled and then decided to put on a robe and go fetch the paper.

Mike jerked awake at the sound of the door closing and fell off the couch. Again. He thrashed around, trying to disentangle himself from the blanket, and managed to get free just as Peter came back inside. He watched him warily, unsure of how he would react.

“Oh hi, Mike,” he said, smiling. “I’ve got the paper. I was going to read the comics section first anyway, so you can look at the front page if you want.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and and sat down at the table. He fished out the section with the comics and then got himself a glass of water before starting to read.

They were just so friendly, Mike thought. They barely knew him, and yet they let him stay overnight on their couch. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the rest, but he didn’t see how it was they could possibly trust him. He wouldn’t trust him in their place.

He rose and padded into the kitchen.

“Hey, uh… is it ok if I use your shower?” he asked quietly, meeting Peter’s eyes briefly before looking away. 

“Oh sure,” Peter nodded. “Micky won’t be up for a while yet. There’s towels in the wooden cabinet in the bathroom. Just leave the towels in the basket when you’re done.”

Peter looked back down at his paper and laughed at the latest comic he finished. Mike seemed like a nice person. Just quiet. But Peter was ok with that. It was a good contrast with how boisterous Micky tended to be a lot of the time.

“Thank you.” Mike murmured. He backed away, retrieved his bag with his toiletries and headed for the bathroom, glad for the opportunity to get clean. He had long ago mastered the art of five-minute showers, and soon he was clean, dressed, and shaved. The bathroom he left looking exactly as he had found it.

Now what?

In the bedroom, Micky finally started to stir. 

He wasn’t really eager to start moving, but the growl of his stomach was enough to convince him. He rolled over onto his stomach with a sigh and stayed that for another minute before finally dragging himself out of bed. 

As he walked out into the front room; he blinked in surprise to see someone besides Peter there. Then he remembered how he had met Mike and invited him home and started to smile. 

“Hi,” he said sleepily. “Can you make coffee? ‘Cause if you can, you’re welcome to stay for breakfast."

Mike’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then gave a small smile. He nodded and got to work prepping the coffeemaker. He could use some too, but he hadn’t wanted to mess around with the machine without permission.

Soon the coffeemaker was dripping away.

Micky smiled and stumbled off to the bathroom. Normally, he had to make the coffee if he wanted anything drinkable. Granted, he didn’t know what kind of coffee making skills Mike had, but Micky figured that they had to be better than the ones Peter had.

Mike’s thoughts had been running along the same lines, based on what Micky had told him about Peter’s cooking skills.

While he waited for the coffee to brew, he returned to the couch and sat down to tend his guitar, gently wiping off the oils that accumulate on the strings and buffing the finish to remove fingerprints.

Peter looked up from the paper and caught a glimpse of the instrument Mike was holding. “Hey, is that your guitar? That looks really nice. Twelve string, right? I’ve only played those a couple of times.”

Peter walked over to get a closer look at it.

It took a while for Micky to really wake up, but the smell of fresh coffee helped him to move his morning routine along a little faster.

Mike drew back a bit, but nodded before going back to his maintenance.

Before long, Micky ambled out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen. He poured himself a mug of coffee and smiled when he discovered that it was just the right level of strong.

“Hey, uh, you guys, what did you want for breakfast?”

Mike looked up and shrugged. He didn’t really have a preference, nor did he know what they had available to choose from. And it seemed rude to ask, like he was being picky. He couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Scrambled eggs,” Peter replied. “And pancakes.”

“Aw Pete, you know I’m no good at pancakes,” Micky said. “And we don’t have any syrup anyway. How about I slice up a couple of the leftover potatoes and fry them instead?”

“Sounds good t’me.” Mike said quietly, packing his guitar away and setting his bag on top of the case before getting up and pouring himself a cup of coffee, which he sipped as he perused the paper Peter had left on the table.

“Ok, groovy,” Micky nodded. “Now, who’s gonna peel those potatoes so I can focus on the rest of the stuff for breakfast?”

“Uh….I can make toast,” Peter said, smiling. Micky smiled back. It probably would be better to let Peter stick with something that would be hard to screw up.

“Hey Mike, do ya mind getting the potatoes ready while I get stuff going?”

Mike nodded. Peeling potatoes was easy enough, and he’d had enough practice at it. Besides, it felt kinda weird not helping.

“How many you need? ‘N where do you want me t’put the peels?” he asked, taking the appropriate knife from the mismatched assortment in the block.

“Uh, just peel two of them and slice them kind of thin,” Micky said. “With eggs and toast, that should be enough for the three of us. Especially after the meal we had last night.”

Yesterday had turned out to be a lot of fun, in Micky’s opinion. He got to see some movies, meet someone intriguing and have a great meal at home. He hoped he could find some way to make today just as good.


	12. Chapter 12

Mike nodded and got to work on the potatoes, peeling and slicing quietly as Micky talked. He had them finished fairly quickly.

Micky and Peter talked about the day they had had yesterday while Micky looked for spices to add to the potatoes and got out the pans he needed to cook with. He made Peter set the table and throw out the potato peels once Mike was done.

“You can go watch TV or read the paper or whatever while I finish up,” Micky said. “It’s only gonna be a few more minutes anyway.”

Mike nodded and returned to the front room with his coffee and the paper.

Micky threw the potato slices into a skillet with a little oil and a couple of spices he had found in the cupboard. He tossed them around a bit before flattening them into the pan and letting them cook. Then he started on the eggs while Peter started making slices of toast.

A few minutes later, everything was on the table. Which hadn’t been soon enough for Micky as he was starving by now.

“Come on, Mike,” Micky called out. “Food’s done.”

Mike rose and joined them at the table.

Micky didn’t wait for Mike to get to the table. Instead he scooped himself a portion of potatoes and eggs and started to scarf them down. Peter ate slower, but still at a decent clip.

Mike took a small portion and ate slowly.

Micky quickly finished off his portion of eggs and potatoes, but still wanted something more. He thought about having the toast, and then decided on cereal instead. So he got up, poured himself a bowl of corn flakes and grabbed a small pitcher of orange juice they had at the back of the fridge. 

“How’s everything?” he asked Mike as he poured the orange juice on his cereal. “Does it taste all right?”

Mike nodded. 

“Yea, it’s good.” he said, taking another bite and doing his best not to stare overlong at what Micky was doing with his cereal. It was really none of his business how Micky chose to eat his cereal.

But... _orange juice_?

“Groovy,” Micky said, shoving a spoonful of corn flakes into his mouth. If Mike hadn’t been there, he probably wouldn’t have bothered with the cereal and just eaten more of the eggs and potatoes. But he did want to make sure there was enough for all three of them. And besides that, he didn’t have a very big bowl of cereal, so it was still saving on food.

“Hey Micky, Tom said we could maybe play a couple of songs this Friday at the Purple Door,” Peter said. 

“It’s about time,” Micky said. “We’ve only been begging for a month now. Hey Mike, you wanna join us?”

Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Uh, sure, I guess.” He hadn’t expected to be around that long, but it would be some sort of work. He could always use the money. Still, the fact that Micky had thought to include him was nice, and he did enjoy playing with him…

“Groovy,” Micky repeated. “Hey Pete, you should try playing with Mike before we go. He’s pretty good.”

“Ok,” Peter nodded. “What kind of guitar do you play? Lead or rhythm? Probably not bass with that guitar.”

“Lead, I guess,” Mike said with a slight shrug. He didn’t think he was that good… and… wait. Were they actually expecting him to hang around that long? Was _he_ thinking about sticking around? He certainly wasn’t looking forwards to sleeping on the street again. He stared at his plate, finishing the last few bites of food as he thought.

“That’s cool,” Peter nodded. “I have a bass guitar. So between the two of us, we should be good. Micky can play drums and sing.”

“I’m not bad at drums,” Micky shrugged. “I don’t play ‘em as much these days because…well, when it’s just Peter playing a guitar, it’s probably better that I be upfront.”

“Practic’ly got a full band.” Mike drawled, setting his plate in the sink. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It just seemed to fit. Guitar, bass, and drums was all you really needed these days. 

“I agree,” Micky said with a wide grin. “So why don’t we practice something after we clean up? How about you and Peter do the dishes and I’ll take care of the other stuff around here.”

Honestly, the main reason Micky wanted to weasel out of doing dishes was because he much preferred to do chores where he could move around. That was, when he was in the mood for them. But he also wanted to move around because he was excited about playing some more music with Mike.

Mike nodded and started filling the sink. He didn’t mind washing the dishes, in fact he had been considering doing it anyway. The sight of the dirty dishes piled in the sink irked him. Plus it made him feel better about accepting their hospitality, that he was expected to contribute. He handed the dishes to Peter to dry and put away, he would have been fine doing it himself but he didn’t know where anything went.

Micky did a little sweeping, picked things up in the bathroom and gathered up the laundry before coming back out to see how Mike and Peter were doing. He felt a little bad about asking the Texan to help with chores. He was a guest after all. But then again, maybe it made things less awkward for Mike to do something.

In the meantime, Micky got out his record player and put a 45 on to listen to while they finished up.

Mike handed the last plate to Peter and drained the sink before heading over to see what Micky was doing. His guitar looked to be undisturbed and he sat down on the edge of the couch, still not quite willing to speak unless spoken to.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time the record was over, the chores were done so Micky joined Mike back out in the front room with Peter pulling out a guitar case from the closet and taking it over to sit down on the floor.

“So…what do you wanna play?” Micky asked Mike. “Pete can play just about anything he’s heard a couple times.”

Mike shrugged. He didn’t have any particular preference.

Micky wasn’t that surprised that Mike didn’t have a suggestion. The Texan seemed reluctant to take any sort of initiative in conversations or otherwise. Usually, this exhausted Micky after a while, but for some reason he was willing to roll with it for Mike.

“Well…Pete likes R&B like us. How about some Chuck Berry?”

“Sure.” Mike pulled out his guitar and checked the tuning, waiting for the others to take the lead. He was kinda nervous about playing with someone he barely knew, particularly since it sounded like Peter was a way better musician than he was. He didn’t think he was _that_ good.

“Ok then, let’s go with Johnny B Goode,” Micky said. “I’ll sing lead.”

He jumped to his feet and mouthed a countdown to Mike and Peter. As soon as Micky reached one, Peter started to play a bass line to set the pace of the song while Micky swayed back and forth to wait for Mike to play the opening chords.

Mike fumbled a little but soon was playing along smoothly. It was interesting, having a bass line to play along with. It sounded better, with the deeper tones balancing out the higher sound of his guitar.

Once Mike started to play, Micky joined in by singing. It was a fun song and impossible for him to not want to move while he was singing it. Soon, he was doing his own odd mix of the Twist and Elvis’ signature moves in the middle of the front room.

As the song went into the bridge, Micky focused his attention on Mike and Peter. They sounded good together and strengthened his belief that they should play together more often.

They did sound good together, Mike realized as he concentrated. How would they sound with Micky on drums, he wondered. Better? Worse? Probably not worse… still it would be interesting to see. He was having fun too. He hadn’t really expected it, but playing like this, in a relaxed setting, without an audience, with other musicians who knew what they were doing… 

He liked it.

Once the song was over, Micky did one last flourish and plopped back down onto the floor.

“Hey, that was pretty good,” he grinned. “Too bad we can’t add in me playing drums.”

“Yeah, but you remember what Mr. Davis said last time,” Peter said. “That he’d kick us out for playing drums in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” Micky said, resting his chin on his hand. “Man, that’s the problem with living here. We can’t practice like we need to.”

Mike chuckled slightly. 

“I was wondering about that. If we were botherin’ the neighbors by doin’ this.” 

“They usually don’t mind the guitar playing and singing,” Micky replied. “But the drums….they get real picky about that.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his hands.

“That’s why we need to earn some extra money so we can move,” Micky continued. “If we got a place, like say a rental house or something, we could practice the way we need to.”

“’We’?” Mike asked, “You mean you n’ Peter, right?” He was under no illusions that he would be involved in that. He’d be long gone by then, probably.

“Well yeah, us,” Micky said, pointing at himself and Peter. “And you too if you want to. In fact….that would be a good idea. With three of us making money and getting gigs, we could probably work even faster to getting a different place.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “Then I could get my extra instruments out of storage.”

Mike stared in shock. His hands made jerky movements as he tried to process what he’d just heard. Not quite flailing or hand flapping, it was more controlled than that, but it was a bit surprising on someone who was ordinarily fairly still.

“M-me?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly. “You- you want me to… to stay?!”

“Sure, why not?” Micky said. “I mean, if you need a place to stay….or want to move somewhere different….we’d be cool with that. The three of us could play gigs and we could all take some part time jobs until we got enough to pay to move out.”

Micky was pretty sure that Mike was homeless, but didn’t want to say so directly. Nor did he want to pressure Mike in case the Texan wasn’t keen on getting roommates.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Micky works at a garage and I’m washing dishes….when I’m not helping other bands out for a gig or in a recording studio.”

”I-I…” Mike stuttered, “you… but we only met yesterday.” It was a tempting offer to be sure, but Mike was hesitant to accept. There had to be a catch. There always was. 

Micky almost said “so?” but hesitated. Clearly, the short length of time they had known each other was important to Mike even if Micky didn’t think it mattered as much as how well they got along now.

“Um, yeah, but that’s ok,” he said. “You seem like a decent guy. You helped me out with that thing with Tracy and helped with chores and stuff. Pete and I didn’t know each other very long before we decided to move in together.”

Mike hesitated, still fidgeting a bit, then nodded. It had to be better than his current accommodations, (or lack thereof), and he could always leave if it didn’t work out, right? And it certainly beat getting rained on. 

“Ok,” he said softly.

“Great,” Micky said, smiling. “Well, we can go get your stuff, if you want.” Micky said. “I’ve got a car we can use. I hope you don’t mind sleeping out here on the couch for now. When we get a different place, we’ll make sure that we’ve all got beds.”

Mike looked away, folding in on himself.

“This is all my stuff.” he mumbled. He hoped they wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. 

“Oh?” Micky said. “Well that’s groovy. We’ve got enough room here for your guitar and things so don’t worry about that. And you won’t need to put stuff in storage like Pete and I did.”

He felt a bit bad about having Mike confirm what he had suspected. Then again, he was pretty sure he would have felt worse if he had just assumed Mike’s living situation based on the day they had spent together.

“Thanks.” Mike said quietly.

“Groovy, well, just pick out a place to keep your stuff,” Micky said. “We’ve still got space in that closet over there. Or you could just use the corner near the couch.”

The phone rang and Micky got up to answer it.


	14. Chapter 14

Mike nodded, smiling slightly as he did. He put his guitar back in his case and sat down on the couch. 

“Hello? Yeah….Today? Ok, sure, I can spare a couple of hours,” Micky said. “Ok, I’ll be over in a few minutes.” He hung up the phone and turned to face Peter and Mike.

“That was Sal at the garage,” he explained. “They’re backed up and need me to help with some small stuff for a couple of hours. They said they’d give me a little extra for the short notice. So I’ll be back in a little while. And hey, if I get enough, I’ll even bring back some pizza and beer. See ya later.”

Mike picked up his guitar and pushed his bag under the couch for safekeeping. He didn’t really want to stay here all day, and he still needed some form of employment that wasn’t dependent on the others. Plus Micky was the closest thing to a friend he had here… and he needed something familiar. Even if he’d only known him for a day.

He stood up and silently followed Micky out.

Peter blinked in surprise and was momentarily hurt by Mike’s leaving, but he soon got over it. He had promised a friend that he’d record a banjo track in the recording studio in a couple of hours. After that…well, it looked like a nice day to stop by the zoo.

He got up to get dressed and go out.

* * *

Meanwhile, Micky was walking briskly down the sidewalk, unaware that Mike was following him.

Mike followed Micky at a discreet distance, being sure to keep him in sight. He hadn’t meant to follow him all the way to the garage… but Mike didn’t really want to be alone. He’d been in town for a few weeks, true, but he still barely knew anyone here.

Soon, Micky showed up at the garage and gave Sal a huge wave as he walked in.

“Thanks for showing up, Micky,” Sal nodded. “We got a couple of big jobs this afternoon, so we mainly need help with a few little things. Changing oil or air filters. Things like that. And there’s an extra twenty bucks in it for you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Micky said. “And hey, thanks for the bonus.”

“Hey, who’s he?” Sal said, pointing toward the door. “Did you invite someone else here?”

Micky spun around and was surprised to see Mike standing nearby.

Mike froze as Micky turned around, too embarrassed to flee. He looked down at the ground, shifting his weight and hunching his shoulders.

“Oh?” Micky said. “That’s my friend, Mike. I think he’s looking for work too.” He turned back around and leaned closer to Sal. “Do ya think you could help him out? Have you got anything else that needs doing around here?”

“Not around here, no,” Sal said, shaking his head. “But if he’s a good worker, I might have something for him.” He raised a hand and waved it at Mike. :Hey. Hey you. Come here.”

Startled, Mike looked up and, seeing the guy waving, approached.

Sal waited until Mike was close before speaking again. The kid was quiet and shy, but Sal knew that wouldn’t be a problem for what he had in mind.

“Hey, Micky here says you’re a good worker,” he said. “How would you like to earn a few bucks? I got a friend across the street. Runs the pharmacy over there. He’s an old man and needs some help cleaning and moving some inventory around. So how about it?”

Mike nodded. He could do that. He liked cleaning, and as long as he didn’t have to talk that much he’d probably do ok.

“All right, good,” Sal nodded. “You go over there. To that place with the sign ‘Greenleaves Pharmacy’. You’ll see a guy with huge glasses behind the counter. Just tell ‘em that Sal sent you to help out for the afternoon. He’s a nice guy and he’ll probably give you a fountain drink when you’re done. Then you come back here and I’ll see that you get paid, all right?”

Mike nodded, giving Sal a half-smile. 

“Thank you sir.” he murmured, tugging his hat respectfully. He then turned and headed for the place Sal had indicated.

The door of the pharmacy jingled as he pushed it open. The man behind the counter looked up as Mike approached, and he did indeed have huge glasses. 

“Can I help you son?” he asked. 

“Uh, Sal sent me. He said you needed some help?” Mike said.

“Ah yes, yes, indeed,” the man smiled, nodding his head. He motioned toward the back of the store where there were boxes sitting all around.

“I just had a large delivery and have been meaning to sort my inventory,” the man explained. “All of the boxes are labeled. If you could just stack them together and then sweep the floor afterwards, I would be very grateful. After that, I could use some cleaning at the front of the store. I know this will take a while, but don’t worry. Whenever you need a break for lunch, just let me know, and I will have something here for you.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Micky got on a pair of spare overalls and got to work on a car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the lines, but as I said, this was an RP on Tumblr, and I'm not entirely sure how to format it for this...

Mike nodded his understanding and got to work. The Texan was no stranger to this kind of work, and was soon absorbed in his task of sorting and stacking the boxes neatly. He sang softly under his breath as he did. It wasn’t a song anyone would recognize, for he’d written it himself, the paper folded and shoved into a compartment of his guitar case. He didn’t think anyone other than he would like it, so he didn’t bring it up when anyone else could hear.

* * *

Micky finished the first couple of jobs in about an hour. Then, he started to help on the more complex jobs. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough to work on his own, but he knew enough to assist the guys who were.  As he worked, he wondered how Mike was doing.

* * *

“Hmm, you are doing a nice job, young man,” the pharmacy owner said, looking in at Mike at one point. “When you’re finished back there, I will have a sandwich waiting for you.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Peter was munching on some peanuts and wondering how giraffes deal with an itch in their necks.

* * *

Mike had completely forgotten that he was supposed to take a break. He took another fifteen minutes to sweep up before poking his head out.

“I’m all finished sir.”

“Ah wonderful, thank you, young man,” the shopkeeper smiled. “Here, come sit at the counter. I have a chicken sandwich for you. I hope that is all right. And what would you like me to make for you to drink? I have a whole fountain here with dozens of flavors.”

* * *

Soon, Micky was working on his last car. And he was grateful because by now he was getting pretty grimy and was looking forward to stopping so he could grab some lunch somewhere. 

* * *

“Oh, thank you sir.” Mike said, joining him at the counter. “Uh… just a cherry Coke is fine, unless you suggest somethin’ else?” There were a lot of possibilities, and he didn’t really want to take a chance on something that he wouldn’t end up liking.

“No, no, I can give you a cherry Coke, if that is what you want,” the man said. “But when you’re done here in the store…if you are interested….I would like you to try one of my signature shakes. It’s not one that gets a lot of requests these days…but I promise that it’s a good one.”

He moved over behind the counter and drew some Coke from a spout before walking over to his collection of syrup bottles. After some flourishes and clinks of metal spoons on glass, he brought over the drink Mike had requested. “There you go. I hope you like it.”

* * *

Once Micky was done, he cleaned up in the bathroom and went out to a nearby hot dog stand to get a quick bite while he waited for Sal to pay him.

“Thank you sir.” Mike replied, accepting the drink. He sat there quietly, eating his sandwich, sipping his beverage, and wondering what Micky was up to.

“You’re welcome,” the man said with a slight smile. “I can tell that you’re a hard worker and deserve a break once in a while.”

* * *

“Here you go, Micky,” Sal said, handing him a check. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

“No problem,” Micky said, grinning when he saw how much he had been paid. Now, he had enough to pay off his last bill for the month with a little bit extra. He remembered offering pizza and beer for dinner and decided that he might get a couple more groceries while he was at it. Especially now that there were three people living at his apartment.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said. “If Mike gets done before I get back, just have him wait here for me.”

* * *

Mike finished his lunch.

“What else did you need me to do?” he asked.

“Just some sweeping here at the front of the place,” the owner answered. “And if you wouldn’t mind, clean off the front window. That should be enough.”

* * *

Micky cashed his check at the bank and left a couple bucks in for emergencies. Then he went and had money sent to pay the phone. After that, he stopped by a nearby pizza place to order a couple of pizzas before heading back to the garage.

* * *

“OK.” Mike retrieved the broom and set to work. It didn’t take him too long. Soon both the floor and the front window were spotless. He waved at the shopkeeper to indicate he was finished.

“Ah wonderful, thank you so much,” the owner said, beaming. “My friend Sal said he’d send someone over and I’m grateful that he sent such a hard worker. Now, would you like to try that drink I was telling you about?”

* * *

Sal told Micky where he had sent Mike and Micky strolled over to see Mike setting a broom aside. “Hi Mike. How’d it go here?”


	16. Chapter 16

“Uh, sure,” Mike said, before noticing Micky, “Oh, uh, pretty good, what about you?”

“It was busy, but the money was worth it,” Micky nodded. Then he turned to the shopkeeper. “Hiya Mr. Brahn. How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you, Micky,” Brahn nodded. “I was just about to let this young man sample one of my old fountain recipes.”

“Groovy,” Micky said, sitting down at the counter. “You’re in luck, Mike. Mr. Brahn is a master at making fountain drinks.”

“Do you know _everyone_ around here?” Mike asked as he sat down next to Micky.

“Nah, just most of ‘em,” Micky laughed. It had always been easy for Micky to meet people and strike up conversations with them. The way he saw it, having friends in the neighborhood made it nicer to live there. 

“Some of ‘em knew my mom or dad first,” he added. “And then they tell their friends about my folks. So it just kinda spreads from there.”

Mike smiled slightly, but his expression faded as he remembered how his family was treated when he was growing up. The whispers and not-so-subtle digs at his mom for raising him alone, the thinly veiled contempt of his ‘peers’…

Micky didn’t notice Mike’s expressions as he watched Brahn craft what looked like a shake from behind the counter. Micky figured that it would be harder for Mike to get to know people, what with being from a different state and being homeless until just today. 

A minute later, the shopkeeper sat a tall glass in front of Mike.

“Here you are, young man,” he said. “This is my own special recipe for a “black cow”. A popular drink just a few years ago. Please let me know what you think.”

“Huh? Oh. Thank you.” Mike tasted the beverage, unsure of what to expect. It was actually pretty good, if a bit sweeter than he usually cared for. He nodded his appreciation.

Micky grabbed a straw from the counter and stuck in the side of Mike’s glass. He took a long slurp himself, enjoying the rich flavor.

“Sorry,” he said to Mike sheepishly. “I guess I was still a little hungry. And Mr. Brahn’s drinks always taste so good.”

“That’s ok. I prob’ly couldn’t drink the whole thing anyway.” Mike assured him. He took another sip. It was pleasantly cold and refreshing.

“Now Micky, I have some left over,” Brahn tutted. “All you had to do was ask.” The shopkeeper poured the rest of the drink into another glass, filling it halfway. Micky eager took his straw out of Mike’s glass and began sucking his own drink down.

Mike sipped his drink slowly as he watched Micky. The way he was going he’d probably end up with a headache.

Micky finished his portion in less than a minute and immediately slapped a hand to his forehead, wincing at the rush of pain that he felt. Thankfully, it didn’t last long though.

“Thanks, Mr. Brahn,” he said. “It was as good as always.”

“You’re welcome, Micky,” Brahn laughed. “Say hello to your mother for me when you speak to her again. And thank you…Mike….for helping me today.”

Mike finished his drink and nodded.

“You’re welcome, sir.” he said as he stood up to follow Micky out.

Micky waved goodbye and pointed toward the garage. “Sal’s got your pay waiting for you. In cash. Oh, and I already ordered a couple of pizzas for us. I figured we could stop to get some more groceries and beer and then pick them up on the way home.”

Mike nodded, and headed toward the garage, where he waited quietly for Sal to finish what he was doing.

“Ah there you are,” Sal said. “I hear you did a good job. That’s good. I’ll keep you in mind if we need any other errands around here. So here’s your pay.”

Sal handed Mike five dollars and said goodbye to Micky before going to his office in the back. Micky grinned and guided Mike to the door. 

“Come on, let’s get a few things before we grab our pizzas.”

Mike nodded and trailed after Micky like some sort of scrawny Texan wraith.


	17. Chapter 17

Micky went back to the grocery store they went to last night to grab a few more essentials. “Yeah, uh, Mike, is there anything in particular you like to eat?” he asked as he raced along the isles. 

Before Mike could answer, he stopped in front of the beer and grabbed a six pack.

Mike shrugged. 

“Not really. Whatever works for you, I guess.” He wasn’t picky. He couldn’t really afford to be.

“Ok, groovy,” Micky shrugged. He grabbed a couple more things and went up to pay. Once again, he lucked out when the clerk did not check his identification for the beer. Then he grabbed another couple of candy bars to add to his order. 

Once he was finished paying, he handed the beer to Mike and directed him to where the pizza place was, figuring that they were probably ready to go by now.

Mike was more than a little surprised when Micky wasn’t asked for ID. He didn’t look old enough to him, maybe eighteen or nineteen, but not twenty-one. Still, he kept his mouth shut as Micky passed him the beer and headed toward the pizza place.

Micky strolled over to the pizza place and handed his bag of groceries for Mike to hold. He ran in a a couple of minutes later, he was rushing out with a pair of pizza boxes and another smaller box on the top.

“They had some extra bread-sticks around, so they let me have ‘em,” he explained as they walked back toward the pad. “I hope one of these pizzas is ok for you. I got one with just pepperoni and cheese and a supreme special…minus the anchovies, of course.”

Mike nodded as he followed Micky back to the pad, pleased about the lack of anchovies. He didn’t really care for them either. Too much salt. 

It was a bit of a struggle to carry all of their stuff back to the apartment, but eventually they got there. Micky opened the door to find Peter sitting in front of the TV, watching a western.

“Hey Micky, Mike,” Peter nodded. “How’d it go today?”

“Great,” Micky grinned. “And look, I got pizza.”

Mike nodded to Peter as he set the groceries down in the kitchen before setting his guitar case down by the side of the couch. He then sat down on the couch and drew his knees up to his chest, watching Micky move around.

Micky quickly put the stuff away and then brought out the pizzas and beer out to the front room. He sat everything on the coffee table and then walked on his knees toward the TV.

“Westerns are ok, but I wanna put something else on,” he said, turning the knob on the TV. “Let’s see if there’s a spooky movie or another sci-fi thing on.”

Mike remained quiet, content to observe. He wasn’t really hungry yet. 

Micky eventually found a movie involving a group of teens spending the night in what was supposed to be a haunted house. The plastic spiders on the wall did not look promising, but Micky hoped it would pick up.

In the meantime, he scooted back from the TV and opened up the box with the supreme pizza and grabbed himself a large slice of it.

Micky really seemed to like lame movies. Mike wasn’t sure if he agreed. They seemed so helpless and completely unable to come up with any sort of plan. Plus the screaming was getting on his nerves.

Unfortunately, the plastic spiders were a sign of the quality to come. The teens made increasingly bad decisions while staying in the house, although Micky did think that the scares were pretty effective. At least they were enough to keep things interesting.

Once he finished the first slice, he opened the box of bread sticks and grabbed a couple to chew on. He was so interested in the movie, he didn’t notice if Mike was eating or not.

Mike tugged his hat down over his ears in a subtle attempt to block out the forced screaming. He was sure he wouldn’t mess up so badly in their place. Sure, he was seeing this from an outside perspective, but come on. How does anyone think that sneaking off with their girlfriend for a _make-out session_ is a good idea? 

“No, don’t go into the basement,” Micky nearly shouted at the screen. Sure, enough, a few seconds later, a hand came out of the darkness to snatch the girl away. 

Micky munched on the last bit of his bread stick, reaching for one of the beers. He was pretty sure that the plot was going to go somewhere soon. They were running out of disposable characters.

Mike flinched at Micky’s cry, though he agreed with the sentiment. Every single decision made by the characters was the worst one possible. How they’d even manage to make it this far in life baffled him. He scowled at the screen and began to mentally rewrite the movie in his head. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting weird...

Micky picked up the beer and got up when he remembered that he needed a bottle opener. He looked over toward Mike and noticed the frown on the Texan’s face. 

_‘Uh oh…maybe he’s not happy watching this…’_

“Um, we can change the channel if you want,” Micky said, scratching the back of his head.

Mike blinked, startled out of his reverie.

“You don’t mind?” he asked in that soft voice of his, with just a touch of Texas twang. “You seemed to be enjoyin’ it…”

Peter, meanwhile, decided to investigate the pizza.

“Aw man… no anchovies?” he grumbled before taking a slice.

“Nah, it’s no big deal,” Micky said with a wave of his hand. “I just like watching cheesy horror to have fun. But I’m just as good with watching something better. So go ahead and pick out something else. I’m gonna go get the bottle opener.”

Micky headed off toward the kitchen, but stopped long enough to look back at Peter.

“Pete, nobody likes anchovies,” he said. “Besides you anyway.”

“If it’s just me then why do they offer it as a topping?” Peter pointed out. Mike smiled slightly at that. He nodded to Peter.

“You c’n change the channel if you’d like.” Truth be told, Mike wasn’t sure if he really wanted to watch TV right now… but he wasn’t sure if they’d be ok with him just turning it off. And there wasn’t really anywhere else he could go in this small apartment.

Micky ignored Peter’s question and brought out the bottle opener to the front room. He sat down on the floor and popped the cap off his beer before taking a long swig.

“I dunno Mike,” he said between sips. “If you think I come up with weird programs to watch… you weren’t here when he decided to watch four hours of _Mister Ed_ right after two hours of _Looney Tunes._

Mike blinked. Not so much at what Peter had been watching, but rather at the fact that he had watched TV for a solid six hours. He‘d never had that much time to waste all at the same time. He always had something that needed to be done. He shifted slighly in his seat, but didn’t actually get up.

“So yeah, let’s see if I can find something better,” Micky said, crawling over in front of the TV again. He flipped past the news, a re-rerun of _I Love Lucy_ and an episode of  _To Tell The Truth_ before stopping at another western playing on a different channel.

“Well, it’s either that or the horror movie,” Micky said. “Take your pick.”

“This works.” Mike said quietly. He had sorta hoped they would switch back to this. He had always liked westerns. He’d often wondered what it would be like to be an outlaw, on the run from the law, tryin’ to clear his name of a crime he didn’t commit. On the one hand he knew that it was by no means as exciting as the movies made it look, but on the other hand…

He could still pretend otherwise, right? It wasn’t as if he was ever gonna actually do something like that. Still, he’d wander in, a stranger in town… keepin’ to himself til some local hotshot wandered over and tried to pick a fight. Then someone else would stand up and try to defuse the situation, but that didn’t work, and the room erupted into a brawl. Soon he found himself taking shelter behind an upturned table next to the guy who’d tried to calm things down… and who bore a striking resemblance to Micky.

Mike blinked. Why was _he_ in his daydream? He shook his head and focused on the movie.

Micky nodded and took another long swallow of his drink before scooping up another slice of pizza. Even though he had turned away before, he often enjoyed westerns. The plots tended to be pretty simple, but the action rarely disappointed. 

That and it was easy to imagine oneself in the story. The gunfighters looked cool, but Micky was certain that he wouldn’t want to be in their boots. Instead, he thought it’d be fun to be the mysterious gambler: drifting from town to town with plenty of quips and cool clothing.

He also imagined that Mike would make a wonderful cowboy. And not just because he was Texan. Mike just had the perfect demeanor for it.

Mike’s mind wandered again back to the daydream he was having. So Micky was there with him. It sorta figured, he had been on Mike’s mind a fair bit. He drew his gun and coolly fires off a few shots at the guys shooting at them from the other side of the bar before ducking back behind shelter.

“Any particular reason you had t’ go an’ antagonize them?” he asks of the guy hiding behind the table with him. “I had it under control.” He reloads and fires off a few more rounds. He hears a cry and smiles. 

Micky finished off his latest slice and finished what was in his bottle before leaning back against the couch. The plot was in a slow patch at the moment, so it was easy to go back to his daydream about being a traveling gambler in the midst of a bar fight. Oddly enough, when he hid behind the bar, Mike was was there with him, using his gun skills to fend people off.

“He tried to steal my money,” he said, in his fantasy. “And he said I was a cheater and I’ve never cheated. How am I gonna find work as a gambler if people think I cheated?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will probably slow down after this, i'm nearing the end of what we have written already, and we've had the rp on pause for a while.

“Yer not gonna get anywhere as a gambler if y’don’t cheat.” Mike drawls, shooting another guy in the arm. “Unless y’like losin’ all yer money.” Funny. He wouldn’t have pegged Micky for that sort, but it fit somehow. 

“‘Course there’s no sense in lettin’ someone slander yer reputation, but why’d ya hafta get me involved?” He fires a few more rounds. “Not t’mention th’ rest of th’ bar?”

“It wasn’t my fault that that guy shoved me onto your table,” Micky pouted. “And…well…those other guys were just clumsy. They were the ones who decided to get mad just because they spilled their beers or got jostled a little.”

A bullet whizzed right past his head and Micky yelped and ducked down even closer to the floor. “And just so you’ll know, if you’re good, you don’t need to cheat. And I’m good. Really good.”

It felt like bragging, and yet it wasn’t in Micky’s mind. Sure, he wasn’t good at much, but there was no point in denying that he was great at poker, blackjack and just about any other card game out there.

“If y’say so,” Mike grunts, “but all the card skill in th’ world ain’t gonna save ya if someone gets it inta their mind  tha‘ you’ve cheated them. Cards don’ stop a bullet.” He fires off a few more rounds. “We gotta get outta here b‘fore one‘a them puts a hole in one’a‘us. An’ b’fore I run outta bullets. Any ideas?”

Micky’s brows crinkled as he tried to think of an idea. By now, the sheriff was probably on his way to stop this fight, but he needed to make sure that nothing happened to them until help arrived. That and it would be nice to avoid getting arrested for gun-fighting.

“Wait! I got an idea,” he said, snapping his fingers. It wasn’t a very good idea, but then again, it wasn’t as if they had a whole lot of options.

“You do? Well I’d love t’hear it.” Mike snarks as he shoots one of the others in the leg. He was normally an excellent shot, but hiding behind the bar did tend to hamper ones ability to aim.

Micky nodded and pulled a spare deck of cards out of his pocket. Then he took a couple of deep breaths and stood up from behind the bar.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said, with his best showmanship voice. “For those of you who thought that my most amazing tricks involved betting and bluffing, I, the great George Michael Dolenz, will now show you the mysteries of life hidden…in an ordinary card deck.”

Micky smiled, his insides shaking, but he was relieved to see that everyone was staring at him blankly rather than shooting at each other.

Mike stared. That was… uh… unexpected. And, wait, he was using his first name? Mike hated his first name and never used it. Ever. So why the _hell_ did he imagine Micky using his? And what exactly was he planning to do with the cards? 

Confused, (daydreams aren’t supposed to work like that, right?) Mike breaks free and returns to reality, frowning to himself. That was bizarre.

Just as he was about to deliver one of his most grandiose speeches ever, the sheriff walked in and made everyone drop their guns.

Even stranger was the fact that Mike had somehow disappeared and that another familiar face had taken the Texan’s place.

“Hi Micky,” Peter said, waving at him.

Micky blinked his eyes several times and found himself back in his apartment, watching TV. He slumped down and snatched up another slice of pizza.

“Aw shucks, just when things were getting interesting,” he grumbled.


	20. Chapter 20

Mike heard Micky’s grumbled comment, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he retrieved a slice of pizza for himself and nibbled on it. It was still plenty warm, to his relief. After a few bites he decided to put it down as just him overreacting. He didn’t really think that Micky had actually shared his daydream did he? That was silly.

Mike briefly considered going for a beer, but decided against it. He didn’t care to get even slightly intoxicated around people he didn’t know.

“Micky, what’s wrong?” Peter said, munching on his own slice of pizza. “You could have gone on with your speech anyway.”

“Yeah, but there wasn’t any point then,” Micky huffed. “The sheriff already got the bad guys anyway. Too bad this movie doesn’t have a gambling character. It would have made it more interesting.”

Mike gasped and choked on the pizza he was eating. He coughed hard, and just about fell off the couch as he spasmed. His airway cleared, he stared in horror at the other two as he scrambled away.

That… how did they know??

Micky tossed the rest of his slice of pizza onto the lid of the box and jumped up to go check on Mike. He dashed over to where Mike was sprawled and held out a hand to him while making sure to not actually touch the Texan.

“Mike? Mike, are you ok?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Mike shook his head. He was not particularly verbose even at the best of times, and this left him mute with shock. Instead, he pointed at the TV, at his head, at Micky, at his head again, and gestured wildly, eyes wide. Then he clutched at the sides of his hat and pulled it down, drawing into himself and away from Micky.

“I don’t get it,” Micky said with a frown. “Is the TV too loud? Is it bothering you? We can turn it off if it’s giving you a headache or something.”

“Aw Micky, I wanted to see the end of this,” Peter whined. “What if Black Bart and his gang get away?”

“That never happens in a western,” Micky replied. “You know that. Come on, help Mike out.”

“N-n-n-no…” Mike croaked out, “s’not that. Y-y-y-you were…” he stuttered, “how d-did you… th-th-th…” He fell silent again, unable to articulate what he wanted to say clearly. He didn’t know what was happening.

“What?” Micky asked. “What was I doing?”

Micky’s mind tried to think of something he might have done to upset Mike so much, but was coming up with nothing. He hadn’t been talking over the movie, so that couldn’t have been it. Nor was Peter doing anything to bug him into retaliating. He was at a complete loss as to what could have bothered the Texan this way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still confused. “I, I didn’t mean it, whatever it was.”

“Y’ were… you were in my head! Y-y-you s- _saw_!” Mike choked out.

Micky scrunched his eyebrows together again, still trying to puzzle out what Mike meant by that. Eventually, a weird, but plausible, idea struck him.

“You mean…both of us having that Western daydream?”

Mike nodded emphatically.

“Oh that,” Micky said with a sigh of relief. “I thought something was really wrong.” He soon realized how that sounded and cleared his throat to explain.

“That kind of thing has happened for a while around Pete and me,” he continued. “We’re not constantly jumping into each other’s heads or anything like that. It’s just….well….sometimes weird stuff like that just happens. I don’t know how to explain it.”


	21. Chapter 21

Mike stared at him for a few moments before turning away, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It didn’t matter that Micky had been ok with how Mike had seen himself in the daydream, it was still more than Mike had wanted to reveal. He slid into the corner between the couch and the wall, curling into a tight ball. 

What the hell was he supposed to do now??

Micky’s smile fell and he shuffled back over to the TV. He hadn’t meant to make Mike feel so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t as if he could control what had just happened. It was something that he and Peter had simply gotten used to rather than trying to figure out a mystery that was unsolvable. 

He opened another beer and began nursing it. Micky wondered if Mike would want to stay here anymore. Or if anyone besides himself and Peter would ever want to hang around them for any length of time.

Mike reached up and snagged the blanket from the couch, wrapping it around himself. Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t stop daydreaming, it was what kept him from going crazy in crowds. Imagining he was somewhere else, someone else, not being surrounded by noise and chaos.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he was curious as to what Micky had been planning… The dragon had been an odd touch, and a bit out of place in a western setting, but it’d certainly made for an intimidating sheriff. Abruptly, he snagged a beer and retreated back to his corner, where he alternated sipping it and munching on his pizza while watching the other two.

Micky went back to watching the movie with Peter. As it turned it, while the plot was pretty simple, the acting was strong and kept things interesting. He tried to focus on that rather than the knot of worry that was gnawing at him now. 

Once it was over, Micky turned off the TV and wondered what they should do now. A part of him wanted to keep eating, but he knew he would be miserable if they all sat in silence for the rest of the evening.

“Say uh…does anyone want to play a game?” he asked. “Like cards, checkers or, or something?”

“You as good at cards as you think y'are?” Mike asked quietly, surprising himself. It would be good to have something to focus on other than that weird daydream…

“Well sure,” Micky grinned. “I happen to play a mean Go Fish. And I’m unstoppable at War.  I’m not so bad at Blackjack or Poker either. Just name your game and I’ll tell you if I’ve played it before.”

Micky picked up the boxes of pizza and moved them to the kitchen counters. They were half empty, but this way, they’d have easy access to them if they wanted more. Then he fetched the remaining beer and put it in the fridge. Finally, he ducked into his room and emerged with a couple of decks of playing cards.

“Poker works.” Mike drawled. He was pretty good at poker himself, giving his natural tendency to maintain a straight face around strange people. His mind drifted unbidden back to the Western daydream… 

“Poker huh?” Micky grinned. “All right. Now, all we need are some poker chips and….”

Peter suddenly appeared at his side with a box full of poker chips, a large grin on his face. 

“Peter…when did we get these?” Micky asked, mystified. 

“Oh I grabbed a box of them while we were still in the saloon,” Peter answered. “Those guys didn’t look like they really wanted them.”

Micky shrugged and sat the box of chips onto the table.

Mike stared, before deciding to pretend that he didn’t just hear Peter say he swiped the box of poker chips from the daydream he’d had. He did wonder just how strong the beer Micky got was…

“Ok,” Micky said, shuffling the cards. “How about we each start off with hundred in chips and see where it goes from there?”

Peter sat down between Mike and Micky, content to watch what was going on rather than join in. He never did very well at poker because he always got excited over a good hand. The bassist grabbed a bread stick and watched the two of them sort out chips.


	22. Chapter 22

Mike nodded as Micky passed out the chips, carefully stacking his as he received them. He sipped his beer and imagined himself dressed as he’d been in the daydream, in a dark cowboy costume, black leather with shiny silvery metalwork, somewhat dulled from the dust of the road.

Micky flipped the cards around in his hands and it wasn’t long before he imagined himself back in the Old West too. Sitting at a worn wooden table while wearing a fancy dark purple suit with a black vest with an elaborate pattern on it made with silver threads. 

He flicked the cards out onto the table and held his hand close to his face.

“What do you say, partner?” he said with a sideways grin. “You think you got a good hand?”

Mike stared levelly at him from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Ah reckon Ah do.” he drawled, letting his accent thicken considerably. He didn’t mind so much that Micky seemed to be back in his imagination again, it seemed kinda appropriate, actually. He slid a few chips across the table, daring Micky to match his bet.

Micky grinned and shook his head. “Whatever you say, partner. I’ll see your bet. And raise you a few more.”

Micky flung a few chips into the pot, confident that his hand would win. 

“Hey Micky, want another slice of the pizza?” Peter asked from the other side of the table.

“Nah, not right now, Pete,” Micky said, rolling his eyes slightly. He turned his attention back to Mike. “Well? What do you say?”

Mike said nothing, only raised an eyebrow as he slid a few more chips into the pot to meet Micky’s bet.

Micky glanced at his hand. He suspected that Mike was trying to bluff him, but couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as if the Texan had any obvious tells. 

“All right,” he said, throwing a couple of more chips into the pot. “I’ll see that. And now I’ll call.”

Peter finished the last bit of the bread-stick and leaned forward, eager to see how this would turn out.

Mike nodded, and laid his cards down.

“Standard flush,” Micky nodded. “That’s a good hand….but not quite as good as my full house.”

Micky spread the cards in front of him, gleeful as well as surprised at how that had turned out.

“You’ve still got some chips left,” he said, scooping up what was in the pot. “You want to try me again?”


	23. Chapter 23

“Sure thing.” Mike drawled, as he dealt the next hand. He examined his hand, and watched Micky’s reactions closely.

Micky snatched up the cards and wasn’t able to stop himself from sneaking out a brief smile. He already had three of a kind and if he could get four of a kind, he was sure that he’d have this hand too.

Mike’s sharp eyes caught Micky’s brief smirk, and he waited a few moments, considering his options. His hand was less than optimal. Not terrible, but not excellent either. Still… they were almost all the same suite. That counted for something, right? 

He slid a few chips in confidently.

Micky tossed a couple of cards onto the table and asked for new ones. Unfortunately, the ones he got didn’t help any. Still, three of a kind wasn’t bad and could be enough to bluster through.

“I’ll raise you a hundred,” he said, tossing the needed chips into the pot. “Well?”

Mike discarded, drew, and kept his face very carefully neutral. He had drawn just the cards he needed to make his hand very good indeed. He looked up at Micky, and slid the chips into the pot to meet Micky’s bet.

Micky started to sweat a little. Mike didn’t look any different than he did in the last game, but Micky knew he was pushing his luck with only three of a kind. He went ahead and added a couple more chips to the pile before decided he better quit before things had a chance to get worse.

“Call,” he said. “What’cha got?”

 ~~“A chandelier”~~ Mike smiled slightly as he presented his cards. Straight flush.

“What?! No way,” Micky said, slamming his cards on the table. “And all I got was a lousy three of a kind. Phoo….”

Micky pouted as Peter grinned while pushing the chips over to Mike. The bassist seemed a little too happy that he lost which was not lost on Micky.

Back in his daydream, he drew a small pistol and pointed it at Peter. “We don’t need you pushing those chips around, partner. Understand?”

“Y-yes sir,” Peter said, sitting back in his seat. At that moment, Micky was just grateful Peter hadn’t appeared in a saloon girl’s outfit or some such.

Mike smirked slightly. 

“Now there’s no need for that. Another round?”

“Of course,” Micky said with a tip of his hat. “I gotta win my money back.”

Unfortunately, the next couple of hands went as well as the last one and soon, Micky was staring at a tiny stack of chips near him compared to the large pile that was by Mike.

“You sure we haven’t played cards together before?” he asked nervously. “Like during that riverboat tournament down near Mississippi?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’d’ve remembered that face o’yours had we crossed ways b’fore. Guess yer not as good as y’thought y’were.” Mike drawls.

Micky frowned as he heard laughter from various cowboys in the background. If he wasn’t currently living his daydream of being a mysterious traveling gambler, he would have been pouting by now.

He glared even more at the hand he currently had. It wasn’t terrible, but it was only four of a kind and Micky suspected that Mike had something far better.

Mike hoped he hadn’t hurt Micky’s feelings with that remark… he’d just gotten a bit carried away. He looked at his hand. It was actually pretty terrible, a single pair. Still, he made his bid.

Micky looked at his hand again. He didn’t have much left to bet with and he was convinced that Mike had the better hand. Deciding to cut his losses, he threw his cards down.

“I fold,” he said. “It appears you got the better of me, partner. I tip my hat to you.”

“Your loss.” Mike said, showing his cards.

“Aw man, I can’t believe it,” he said. That was enough to snap him back out of his daydream and Micky stood up and stretched his arms over his head. 

“Are you some kind of master poker player or something?” he asked. He went over to grabbed another slice of pizza. It was cold by now, but he didn’t mind that.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! The thread has been revived! I'll probably make this into a weekly updated thing...

Mike shrugged. He was just good at keeping a blank expression. The rest was luck, really.

“Well, I bet you could win some tournaments with that poker face of yours,” Micky said. He finished off his slice in a couple more bites and sat back down at the table. 

“Let’s play something else,” he said. “Like a board game so Pete here can play too.”

Mike nodded, back to being his usual quiet self now that the daydream had ended. He was playing a preset part there, and doing what was expected. He knew what was expected there, and could fake it pretty well. Outside of the daydream… Well that was something completely different.

Micky took the cards and chips and put them away in his room. He came back out with a couple of boxes of board games.

“Ok, we got checkers, Parcheesi and Monopoly,” he said as he sat back down. “Which one you wanna play?”

“Parcheesi,” Mike said softly. Checkers was only a two-person game, and Monopoly struck a little too close for home.

“Gotcha,” Micky said, opening up the box. “But I wanna be the blue guys.”

“Aw, Micky, I thought I was going to be them this time,” Peter said. 

“Peter, you can be red,” Micky said. He turned to Mike. “I hope you don’t mind, but Pete’s particular about which colors to be.”

Mike smiles slightly.

“I can be green though, right?”

“Sure,” Micky grinned, sliding the green pieces over to Mike. He sat his pieces on the board and then handed out the little cups and dice to each player. He didn’t know why, but he always like that they each got their own dice and dice shakers.

He rolled and immediately groaned when he realized he didn’t get a roll that would get one of his guys off the home spot.

Mike waited for Peter to go before he did. Peter was luckier than Micky and managed to get a guy out of Home and a good ways along the board, which made Micky pout.

“Man, you must always get the good dice or something,” he grumbled, still fiddling with the dice shaker in his hand.

“This just doesn’t seem to be your day,” Mike murmured softly as he made his roll. Was that a song? It sounded like it might be a song. He moved his piece a short distance.

“Whadd’ya mean? It should be,” Micky said with a pout. “I was able to get pizza. And we actually have plenty of food in the cupboards for a change. There’s not supposed to be a limit on luck.”

Micky rested his chin on the heel of his hand and watched both Mike and Peter get more than one piece into play before he was able to get his first one out.

Mike shrugged as he took his turn. 

Eventually, Micky was able to make progress, but it was clear that he was far behind. Both Mike and Peter had one piece left to get to the end while he had just gotten all of his pieces out of the home space. 

Still, even though he was losing miserably in these games, Micky found it easy to make a joke out of it. Sure, he didn’t like to lose so much, but it was fun to have Mike and Peter to play with.

Mike was enjoying himself as well. It didn’t require you to talk, and he was happy to remain silent as Micky and Peter exchanged some good natured ribbing. Actualy it was mostly Micky talking… but Peter occasionally chimed in with a strangely phrased observation.

Micky’s head bumped the table as he watched Peter triumphantly move his last piece to the end, winning the game. But instead of whining about it like he often did, he got up to grab another slice of pizza.

“I shouldn’t have gotten rid of your Candy-Land board,” he said. “At least then I could imagine eating some sweets while losing.”

“Oh you didn’t get rid of it, Micky,” Peter said. “I still have it in my trunk. Do you want to play that next?”


	25. Chapter 25

Mike smiled and sipped his beer.

“Why not?” Micky said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I couldn’t do any worse at that.” Then he turned to Mike. “You don’t have to play if you don’t wanna….but it is kinda fun once in a while.”

“Please, Mike?” Peter said, giving his best puppy-dog eyes.

“If’ya insist.” Mike shrugged. He was feeling slightly buzzed from the beer, probably from the fact that he hadn’t eaten that much. Plus alcohol tended to hit him harder than it did other people. He was sure he’d be fine though, although maybe he should have another slice of pizza…

Peter clapped and grinned before running to the bedroom to get the game. Micky gathered up the stuff from the previous game and placed it off to the side on the counter. He finished off his beer and considered getting one more slice of pizza.

Mike finished his beer as well, rising to his feet and slipping silently past Micky to nab another slice as well as another beer. They were just sitting around playin’ board games after all. It would be fine. He returned to his seat equally quietly.

Peter brought out the board game and eagerly sat everything up before grabbing his own slice and sticking it into his mouth. He didn’t let its presence there hinder him as he let it stick out while moving stuff around.

Micky watched this while rolling his eyes and shaking his head. There was talking with your mouth full and then there was what Peter was doing.

Mike popped open his beer and alternated sipping it and nibbling on his pizza while he watched Peter work.

Soon, the board was set up and the cards shuffled. Micky was elected to draw a card first as he hadn’t won any of the previous games.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, take a card off the top of the deck.

Mike smirked as he munched on his pizza.

“No problem.” he drawled. He was a bit drunk, maybe. Or maybe he wasn’t. He wasn’t really sure. Maybe it was just bein’ around such nice people, in a warm house out of the rain…

Predictably, Micky lagged behind Mike and Peter for most of the game, leading him to comically sulk and munch on bread-sticks.

However, a turning point occurred when both Peter and Mike ended up getting stuck in the Molasses Swamp, causing Micky no small amount of glee.

Mike just shrugged. No sense in getting upset. It was just a game.

Peter frowned and rolled his eyes as Micky did little victory gestures with every turn taking him closer and closer to the end. When he finally did make it, he got up and danced around the table.

The bassist responded by getting up to get another one of the large suckers out of the cupboard. He took the wrapper off, sat down, and watched Micky celebrate with a bemused look on his face.

Mike was watching this with interest. Micky did seem rather childish about winning, but at the same time he wasn’t being a jerk about it either. Just easily amused. He wasn’t getting angry about it. He was a bit curious to notice Peter’s bemused reaction to Micky’s jubilations.

“Is he always like that when he wins?” he asked the bassist.

“Not every time,” Peter said with a slight smile. “Just nine times out of ten.” 

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t upset, rather he was still fascinated at how Micky could get so wound up on things like that. Then again, Peter considered Micky to be a high-strung person, so that wasn’t surprising either.

“Might be a good thing he lost the other games. ‘M not sure I could handle all the excitement if he had,” he drawled.

“Aw, you guys are just no fun is all,” Micky said, waggling his tongue and fingers at them. Eventually, the thrill of victory wore off and he plopped back down onto a chair at the table.

“So…what do you wanna do now?” he asked. “Watch something else on TV? Listen to some music?”


	26. Chapter 26

“Music.” Mike drawled. He was interested to hear what they had. After all, if he was actually going to be part of a band with them he should get an idea of what they liked/knew.

“Ok,” Micky said. He and Peter went to the bedroom. Micky got out his record player, a small model in a white carrying case, and put it on the coffee table before plugging it in. Meanwhile, Peter brought in a pair of green wooden containers with handles on them. He opened them up to reveal dozens of 45s in paper sleeves.

“Go ahead and pick something,” he nodded at Mike. Micky was interested to know what Mike would choose as it might give him a hint to what the Texan liked.

Mike shuffled through the discs thoughtfully. They had some good stuff in here. He recognized most of what they had. After a bit of thought, he pulled one out and handed it to Micky. It was a fairly popular song that he rather liked.

Micky looked at the 45 and saw that it was  _Baby I Need Your Loving_  by the Four Tops. He nodded in approval and put it on the record player. He mimed the lyrics and bobbed his head while the music played.

Mike sat back, smiling slightly in amusement at Micky. He liked the music, and he was feeling relaxed and content. He finished his slice of pizza as he swayed very slightly to the beat of the music. Soon the song finished, and he nodded to Micky to pick something.

Micky flipped through the records and eventually picked _Every Day_ by Buddy Holly. It was light and poppy, but Micky loved the melody and thought Holly had an intriguing voice.

He patted his hands on his knees in time to the music while Peter nodded his head to the beat.

Mike nodded at the choice, his fingers tapping his leg with the music. Not something he would have picked, but not a bad song by any means.

Once that song was over, Peter decided to pick something. He ended up pulling out _Like a Rolling Stone_ by Dylan and leaning back on the couch to listen to it.

Micky leaned back on the floor onto his hands. It wasn’t his kind of music, usually, but he appreciated the thought that went into the lyrics. He often admired songwriters who came up with more poetic verses to their tunes.

Mike flicked through the selection once the song had finished, looking for another one that had caught his eye earlier. He pulled it out and passed it over.

Micky was a little surprised to see Mike pick B.B. King. Most people who visited him didn’t go as much for less poppy R&B sound, but Micky was pleased to see the Texan choose it. He put it on the record player and leaned back with a smile on his face.

The room was filled with music. Mike loved it. He loved being able to share this experience with others who loved music as much as he did, who got that same joy from hearing a favorite song play, that same thrill from calling forth sounds that had the power to change lives. It was why he’d come out here. The music had called him. It was why he _wrote_ , lines of verse scrawled on napkins carefully folded and stashed in his bag away from prying eyes. He was never going to show it to anyone.. but he still wasn’t going to stop.

He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Even if it didn’t work out, it would still be something to remember.

Micky glanced over at Mike out of the corner of his eye and smiled. Mike really seemed to be enjoying himself which was nice. He was glad that the three of them had had some time to do fun stuff and relax. Especially since he was sure that they would need to work hard so they could raise enough money to move into a bigger place. This little apartment just wasn’t going to work for the three of them in the long term.

Once the record ended, Micky threw on an Elvis 45 and headed to the kitchen to put the leftover pizza into the fridge. 

As soon as the song finished Mike pulled out his guitar. His fingers were itching to play something, and he didn’t think they would mind.

Micky’s eyes lit up when he saw Mike pull out his guitar. Sure, he’d been enjoying listening to records, but playing was usually even more fun than listening. 

He scooted over a little closer to Mike, eager to see what the Texan would choose to play.

Mike warmed up with a basic ‘twelve bar blues’ progression. He had a feeling Micky would enjoy it, and it was an easy pattern used in many songs.

Micky nodded along with the music, enjoying the improvisational feel of it. Peter got up and fetched his bass so he could add some rhythm to what Mike was playing.


	27. Chapter 27

Mike continued to play, soon shifting into a Beatles tune. Everyone liked the Beatles, right?

Micky noticed that Mike shifted into playing _Don’t Bother Me_ by the Beatles. He fought the urge to smile a little because that song seemed appropriate for Mike. The Texan seemed like someone who would want most people to leave him alone most of the time.

And yet, he seemed pretty friendly to Micky. Then again, Micky never really did mind it if people were a little distant around him. It probably compensated for how touchy-feely he tended to be.

Music really was a great way to express yourself, Mike thought. He didn’t need to speak, he could play and have the listeners fill in the words instead. He finished up and smirked crookedly.

“Got any requests?” he drawled.

Micky smiled and tilted his head. There were plenty of songs that he liked, but he was actually much more interested in learning more about what Mike enjoyed than listening to any of them.

“What’s the first song you learned?” he asked. “Go ahead and play that.”

Mike bit his lip. The first song he learned…

“You probably won’t like it,” he warned, …was an old country tune popular back home. Still, he rather liked it, and set his hands to the chords. He forgot, for a moment, that he had an audience, and sang softly along with his playing, his Texan twang adding to the words. You _had_ to sing to this song.

Micky leaned back and grinned while he listened. Mike’s singing was actually pretty good. Sure, it was a little more…Texan than what he was used to hearing at the local clubs in Malibu, but that didn’t make it bad by any means. Just different. The Texan’s singing sort of reminded him of the Hank Williams records his mom used to play once in a while.

Once Mike was finished, Micky clapped his hands and beamed at Mike, hoping the Texan would do another number. 

Mike jumped, unused to positive reception of his singing. A fleeting hope that Micky’d actually enjoyed his singing fled through his mind to be ultimately squashed. No one liked his singing. Micky was just being polite. Sure, it was better than cold silence (barely) but it certainly wasn’t genuine. It couldn’t be.

“That was great,” Micky said. He got up on his knees and moved over closer to Mike. “We should try doing a duet some time. I bet it’d sound really groovy.”

Truthfully, he hoped that Mike would sing with him and Peter at some of their gigs. Usually, Micky had to do most of the singing and figured that having someone else sing either solo or in a duet with him could shake things up.

Mike stiffened as Micky approached.

“Don’t make fun of me like that,” he said. “I sound terrible. No one wants to hear me.”

Micky blinked his eyes in surprise. “Wait, what? Mike, I wasn’t making fun of you. I swear.”

“Yeah, you did sound pretty groovy,” Peter nodded. “I bet you could jam with some of my friends. They do a lot of folk music. You’d fit right in.”

Mike scowled. Much as he’d like to believe them… he knew he wasn’t that good. He had too much of an accent to sing well.

“Because of course the Texan would be good at singing folk music…” he muttered bitterly as he put his guitar back in its case. He wasn’t in the mood for playing anymore. Under his breath he added, “This was a mistake.”

He’d leave in the morning.

Peter looked at Micky confused. He thought that Mike would like having some more musician friends to hang out with, but for some reason, the Texan looked upset.

“Look Mike, Pete didn’t mean anything by that,” he said. “It’s just that a lot of his friends happen to be folk musicians and they play a lot of songs like that. You know, old country tunes, traditional stuff and folk-y stuff. He just thought that that was what you liked to play.”

It was tempting, Mike had to admit. It would be nice to find some folks that enjoyed that sort of thing. However, he still didn’t really know Peter that well, and he was generally wary of meeting up with a large group of people he didn’t know.

“I don’t sing.” he said. “Just, forget you ever heard that, ok? It’s not gonna happen again.”

“Aw, come on, Mike,” Micky said. “At least check it out some time. You might have fun.”

He wanted to say more, but decided not to push it. If Mike didn’t want to meet Peter’s friends, that was his prerogative. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to force things. 

Still, he was disappointed that Mike decided to stop playing. It seemed like there was nothing but tension in the room now.

Mike rose to his feet and headed outside. He needed some space, and there wasn’t any place to find it inside.

The cool night air was refreshing on his face as he sat on the front steps of the building, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Micky sighed. This wasn’t how he was hoping the evening would go. Then again, he was used to his plans crashing and burning just as often as working out. 

He got up and went to the kitchen to straighten things up. Micky figured that there was no point on dwelling too much on Mike for the moment because he knew the Texan would be back. His guitar was still here.

Mike sighed. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He did kinda want to be in a band, but he didn’t know if he wanted to stay with these guys. There wasn’t enough space in the apartment for the three of them. They were nice enough, sure, but they would doubtless grow tired of him over time. They usually did. Still, he had enjoyed playing with them.

He sat there for about half an hour, before going back inside.

* * *

By the time Mike came back in, Micky had finished putting things away and was currently watching another western with Peter. He got up and turned the TV off when the Texan stepped through the door.

“Hey, Mike, uh….” Micky scratched his head. “I just wanna let you know that there’s no pressure. You know, on meeting Peter’s friends or playing in a band with us. Sure, it’d be groovy, but if you don’t wanna…that’s cool too.”

Mike blinked in surprise. Usually people didn’t really apologize when this sort of thing happened. They just pretended it didn’t happen, and put him down as being ‘difficult’ when Mike didn’t want to cooperate.

Except Micky seemed to be genuinely concerned that he had upset him. That was surprisingly thoughtful, particularly from a guy he’d only met yesterday. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly into a faint smile as his scowl softened. 

“Thanks.“ he said softly. 

Micky grinned back. “No problem. Uh, I was just gonna watch some TV for an hour and then go to bed. But if you wanna do something else, that’s fine.”

He was relieved that Mike didn’t seem to be so upset anymore, even if he was a little bummed out still that Mike didn’t seem interested in performing with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some inspiration from Rochelle_Templer's "In Harmony" fic for this bit regarding Mike's reluctance to sing in front of an audience.
> 
> Additionally, for those curious, I'm kinda disatisfied with how the Monkees Rising fic/rp ends, so I'm not sure when I'll get around to updating it again. I'm tempted to just tie it off now, honestly.


	28. Chapter 28

“Nah, that’s ok.” Mike replied, settling down on the couch. He was quiet for a few moments. “I guess I’ll hang around for a bit longer.”

“Good,” Peter grinned, jumping off the couch to turn the TV back on. “I need to see if Big Slim is going to get Roy hanged.”

“Ah, Pete, you know that’s not gonna happen,” Micky scoffed. “Roy’s the star of the show. They never get hanged.”

Peter pouted at that, but was soon absorbed in the film. Mike shook his head slightly at their exchange. On the one hand, it was pretty cynical of Micky to point that out. On the other hand, Peter didn’t seem to be that bothered by it. Peter wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed from what Mike had seen. True, he hadn’t seen that much of him, and he was a damn fine musician, but surely no one was that naive.

Micky leaned back against the couch and fidgeted while he watched. The movie was pretty good, but it was still simple enough to allow Micky’s brain a chance to wander. 

Mike seemed ok for now, but…he did worry about the fact that the Texan had gotten so hostile over a compliment in the first place. He wasn’t sure that that boded well for the future.

Mike perched on the back of the couch and wondered if they’d still want him to join them at that gig on Saturday.

Soon the movie was over and as predicted the hero did not get hanged after all. Micky yawned and turned the TV off.

“I’m hitting the hay,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m thinking about doing some more work at the garage tomorrow so we can pick up some extra money. Then I’m gonna go hunt for some gigs. You guys got any plans?”

Mike shook his head. He didn’t have anything lined up. 

“I was just gonna look for work.”

“I could see if my friends at the garage can give you any leads,” Micky nodded. “How about you Pete?”

“A friend of mine needs a banjo player for a song he’s recording this weekend,” Peter said. “He said he could pay me for three days work.”

Mike nodded his thanks. He did appreciate the effort Micky was making to help him out, even if it did feel a bit weird. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Micky was going to ask him to pay him back at some point…

“That’s groovy,” Micky yawned. “Now, if only there was a way we could both be hired for a gig, that would be even better. ‘Night everyone.”

Micky went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth a little before plopping into bed.

“Goodnight Micky.” Peter said as Micky left. He waved at Mike before heading off to bed himself, leaving Mike alone in the living room. 

Mike was fine with that. He rose once the doors on both their rooms had closed and proceeded to turn off most of the lights they had left on. He didn’t need them all on. He brushed his teeth, changed into his nightclothes, tidied up the kitchen a little bit, and sat back down on the couch to write a few lines on a napkin he had saved.

Eventually his eyes grew heavy and he tucked the napkin back into the bag before falling asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

The next morning, Micky slept in, not wanting to get up that early to go work and beg for gigs. Besides, the garage probably wouldn’t even need him until early afternoon anyway. So there was no point in getting up right away.

Peter got up to fix himself some toast and tea and read the paper quietly at the table. He enjoyed having some quiet time before Micky got up and made things much noisier most of the time.

Mike woke abruptly when he sensed Peter moving around. He watched him for a while, not wanting to intrude as well as still being unsure of his position here. Would he mind if he made himself a bowl of cereal?

Peter finished his toast and continued to sip his tea while reading. He looked up at one point to see Mike looking at him.

“Good morning, Michael,” he said. “Would you like some tea?”

Mike hesitated, then nodded. He padded into the kitchen to stand awkwardly near the fridge. He still wasn’t sure what to think of Peter, and in fact was a little thrown off by the quiet, thoughtful attitude the young man was putting off. This _was_ the same guy as from last night, right? The guy who’d been worried the main character of a western would get killed? The guy who’d had Candyland in his room?

“There’s some bread on the counter,” Peter added. “You can have some toast if you want.”

Then Peter went back to his paper. He knew that Micky only read the headlines, but Peter like to cover every page. You never knew when something interesting would turn out to be hidden in the advice column or the comics section.

Mike nodded again, still unsure of how to react to him. He took his tea, and his toast, and sat down at the table opposite Peter.

Peter nodded while reading the advice column. There were some really good ideas in there today. He decided he should show Micky this one even though Micky usually didn’t seem enthused about reading the stuff Peter pointed out to him.

He sat the rest of the paper down on the table and started to read the comics, a smile already appearing on his face.

Mike continued to watch him. Eventually he spoke quietly.

“Mind if I make coffee?”

“Oh sure,” Peter said, looking up from his comics. “Micky will want some anyway when he gets up. There’s coffee in the cupboard next to the sink.”

Peter got up and poured himself another cup of tea before sitting back down with his paper. He wasn’t able to drink it very often though because he was soon laughing away at the jokes he was reading.

Mike nodded and went to make coffee. He soon had the coffeepot chugging along, filling the air with its fragrance.

“When does Micky usually get up?” he asked.

“Whenever he feels like it,” Peter shrugged. “He only has a set time if he has to work at the garage. And even then, they usually call him in the morning to make sure he’s going to show up.”

Peter smiled as he finished reading the rest of the comics before sitting the paper down on the table. He watched Mike wait for the coffee for a moment and then cleared his throat.

“Um, so….why did you come to California?”

“Music.” Mike said, not really wanting to get into the details. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, thinking about how it would probably be a while before Micky got up. He could go out looking for work on his own… but given that he’d only had marginal success at that so far, it might be better if he waited.

“Me too,” Peter nodded. “I met Micky about a year or so ago while I was on summer vacation. We got along and decided to try to start a band together. It’s going ok so far…I just wish we could pick up some more people. Would you like some toast?” he asked Mike. “I can make you some. Micky usually prefers that I let him make everything else for breakfast though.”

Mike nodded. 

“Micky mentioned that. The band thing.” And Peter’s culinary ineptitude…

Peter grinned and got up to pull out some more slices of bread. Toast was one of the best foods out there because it was almost foolproof to make and most everyone liked it.

“Do you think you’d like to join a band?” he asked as he popped a couple slices into the toaster.

“It would be nice,” Mike shrugged. He hadn’t had much luck finding a band to play with, mostly because guitarists were everywhere and his playing was hardly exceptional enough to stand out, even if his guitar was.

“Well, I hope you’ll join us,” Peter smiled at him again. “I’m sure Micky would like it.”

The toast popped up and Peter put them on a plate before jamming two more slices into the toaster. “What do you like? Butter or jelly? I like honey on mine.”


	30. Chapter 30

“Jelly’s fine.” Mike replied. Peter wanted him in the band too? Huh. Maybe. It might not be a bad idea. They got on well enough, and he could do a lot worse. And he could still bail out at any time, right? So maybe he would give it a shot.

Peter got a large jar of grape jelly out of the fridge and sat in on the table. Just then the other toast popped up. He tossed it on top of the other slices and put it on the table in front of Mike.

“Here you go,” he beamed. “Just let me know if you want some more. When Micky gets up, he can make something for you to have with it. Like eggs. Eggs sound really good.”

A louder than needed yawn caused Peter to look over at the bedroom just in time to see Micky stumble out.

Mike spread the jelly in a thin layer and nibbled on it as he turned to see Micky emerge from his room. 

“Uh… the coffee should be ready soon.” he said, doing his best not to comment on Micky’s disheveled appearance. Definitely not a morning person.

Micky stared at the scene in front of him. It took him almost a minute to remember that it wasn’t just Peter who was living with him these days. He tried to smile, but it just came out as his mouth falling open a little.

“Bleugh,” he said before heading over to the bathroom. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.

Mike half expected Micky to turn around and go back to bed. He certainly looked like he was still mostly asleep. He went back to his toast.

Micky decided to take a shower and then shave before doing anything else. After he finished both, he started to feel more human again, though he still wasn’t happy that he had gotten up so early.

He walked out to the kitchen and looked over at Mike and Peter again. “Didya guys want eggs or something? I was thinking of making some scrambled eggs.”

Micky rubbed his eyes. He hoped that the smell of food would be enough to get him going at last.

“Uh… maybe I should do it,” Mike told him. “Y’can sit here and sip yer coffee, instead.” Micky looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up. Not the sorta thing you wanted to see in the guy cooking breakfast. Plus, scrambled eggs weren’t particularly hard to make. 

Micky finally managed a lopsided smile and plopped down onto a chair. He was fine with making the eggs himself, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn down Mike’s offer to sit and continue to try to wake up.

Peter fetched Micky’s mug and handed him the coffee pot. Micky accepted both with a nod and filled his cup to the brim, drained it in one long gulp and then poured himself another one before finally handing the pot back to Peter.

He glanced at the crumbs on Mike’s plate. The toast looked good to, but Micky could not work up the energy to ask Peter for some.

Mike prepared the eggs with little fuss, pleased to be doing something for them rather than the other way ‘round. He divided them into three portions and dished them up, setting the plates on the table and the pan in the sink before sitting back down with his own mug of coffee.

Micky nodded his head and scooted the plate closer. He scarfed down the eggs with gusto and sprinkled pepper on them at various points. After that, and his second cup of coffee, he was finally ready to talk again.

“Hey uh, if I got free time after doing stuff at the garage and asking around for gigs, did you want to do something?” he asked. “Like see another movie…or oh, I know, let’s go to the amusement park!”


	31. Chapter 31

Mike was quiet for a few moments. A few days ago he would have dismissed the idea of going to the amusement park completely, yet he found himself considering it. Micky was entertaining to be around, and Mike had never been to the local park before. Plus, he was feeling better about things in general. Getting several solid meals certainly helped, not to mention being able to get adequate sleep two nights in a row. Not having to worry about where he would sleep definitely lifted a weight from Mike’s shoulders.

Besides, it was a weekday, right? So the crowds probably wouldn’t be that bad. He didn’t like crowds. All the shouting and hubbub grated on his nerves in the worst way. And, well, Micky’s enthusiasm was infectious, he had to admit. It might not be all that bad. The movies hadn’t been bad, after all.

“Uh… I don’t see why not… ‘s long as I don’t have anythin’ goin’ on.”

“Groovy,” Micky beamed. “I should be back in about four hours or so. You can Pete can do whatever and meet me at the park.”

Micky poured himself some more coffee and got up to look for the corn flakes. He was pretty sure that the work that needed to be done at the garage would only take a couple of hours. And if it took a little longer, Micky figured he could just cut back on the number of places he’d see about gigs from.

He found the box and poured a small bowl of cereal before dousing it with orange juice. Then he sat down at started to quickly scoop it into his mouth.

Mike nodded, a little awkwardly. He wasn’t really sure what to do in the meantime. Sitting around here doing nothing while Micky was looking for work didn’t sit right with him. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the day with Peter. Oh, he was nice enough, but Mike didn’t feel comfortable with him just yet.

He realized he was staring at Micky’s bowl of OJ and cornflakes, and flicked his gaze away, resting briefly on Micky’s hair. Huh. It seemed wavier than he recalled it being last night. He looked away and went to check on his things.

Micky slurped down the rest of his cereal and ran a hand though his hair while he was drinking the rest of his coffee. He hadn’t straightened it in the last day or so and it was starting to revert back to waves that would soon turn curly if he didn’t do something about it. Normally, he didn’t let it get to this point, but then again, he really didn’t want to spend time getting it straighter again.

He got up and dumped the dishes from the table into the sink. “Hey Pete, could ya do the dishes while I’m gone?”

Mike shoved his bag under the couch. He didn’t really want to leave it here, but he had to admit it was a pain to haul around everywhere he went. He did remove some of his more personal effects though, slipping them into his pockets for safekeeping. That done, he slung his guitar over his shoulder. 

“Sure Mick,” Peter nodded. He thought about getting ready to go out for a while, but decided to let Micky get ready first since he had to work that day. Plus, he wanted to see what Mike was going to do.

When he saw Mike sling on his guitar and head for the door, he called out to him. “Hey Mike, you wanna wait and have me go with you?”

Mike shook his head. He still didn’t know Peter that well, and didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’d much rather stick with Micky for the moment. He was cautiously optimistic about trusting him, something he hadn’t really expected to feel this soon. 

Peter shrugged his shoulders and waved goodbye at him before starting on the dishes.

Meanwhile, Micky headed off to the bathroom to finish getting ready before putting on his clothes and heading for the door.

“I’ll see you guys in about four hours,” he said. “Hey, uh, meet me by the big circus elephant statue. Then we can have some fun together.”

Mike followed Micky out silently, almost colliding with him at the bottom of the walk when Micky paused to admire a flower and wave at a neighbor.

Micky stood still for a second and then whirled around to see Mike following him. On the surface, this seemed more than a little odd, but Micky chalked it up to Mike simply deciding to leave at the same time he did.

“Hi Mike,” he said with a smile and a little wave. “I uh, plan on going to the garage first. Did you want to see if I could get you some work for today too?” He then noticed that Mike was carrying his guitar. “Or I guess not since you have your guitar? You gonna look for gigs too?”


	32. Chapter 32

“Thought I’d go to th’ park or somethin’,” he murmured in that quiet drawl of his. “n’ play some tunes. Maybe make a bit of money that way.” It was a beautiful day, after all. Sunny and warm.

“Oh ok,” Micky nodded. He was about to walk away, when another thought occurred to him, causing him to spin on his heel so he could face Mike better.

“That guitar might be a bit of a drag to carry around an amusement park,” he said. “You sure you want to take it with you?”

Mike recoiled as Micky pivoted to face him again, his hands rising to clutch at his guitar strap possessively. He relaxes a fraction of a second later and nods.

“I.. I like havin’ it with me.” he says. _So it won’t get stolen._ He leaves that last part unsaid, not really wanting to offend. Besides, he felt naked without it over his shoulder or in his hands. It was hard enough to leave his bag at their place. He wasn’t about to leave his precious instrument unguarded.

“Oh….ok,” Micky said. He got the feeling that there was more to it than what Mike had told him, but he was also pretty sure that it would be a mistake to pry.

“Well, um, if you change your mind, you can meet me at the garage in about two hours and we can take it back to our place before we check on gigs and go to the park. Catch ya later.”

Micky waved at Mike again and strolled toward the garage. A part of him was a little disappointed that things still seemed a bit…awkward when he tried to talk to Mike, but he tried to not focus on that. People usually don’t get used to other people overnight and someone like Mike probably took a little longer than what was typical. 

He waved at the guys who were hovering around one of the cars being worked on when he walked into the garage and shrugged on some overalls so he could get started.

Mike nodded as Micky waved at him, before turning and walking down the street towards the community park. 

He liked the park. It was a fairly quiet spot, away from noisy crowds. Sure, there was usually a fair number of people there, but the open air environment made it a lot less stifling. 

It was so much more alive here. Mike sat on a boulder and gazed around, a soft smile on his face as he observed the verdant landscape. (He would sit on the grass but he didn’t want to risk grass stains on his pants). Everything was so green and lush. He loved the color green. It was a color not often seen in Texas, particularly not this vibrant sort of green. Usually it was more dusty and dry.

He drew out his guitar, tossed a few coins in his case to encourage donations, and played. No one appeared to notice him yet, so he took the time to work on refining one of his original songs.

Meanwhile, Micky finished up with the chores he had been given even faster than he had anticipated. It turned out that people were bringing in their cars for relatively minor car maintenance these days. It seemed like a waste of time and money to Micky, but then again, he figured a lot of people didn’t want to bother with learning how to do this stuff themselves anyway. 

He offered to help out on one more car before picking up his pay for the day. He took off the overalls, scrubbed his face and hands in the sink, and then took off for some of the clubs he and Peter had worked at recently.

Mike had attracted some attention, and he changed to some more popular, well-known tunes. A few people tossed some change into his case, some others sang along. 

Eventually, he checked his watch, and realized he was due to meet back up with Micky soon. He excused himself, murmuring polite thanks to the people there, and collected the change before making his way back to the garage where Micky worked.

Micky walked briskly into the Kitty Kat Klub and was disappointed to learn that it had been changed to the Purple Elephant Dive…and that they weren’t hiring live bands anymore. Not to mention how atrocious the decor had become in what was a formally groovy club.

Disappointed, but unwilling to give up, Micky strolled a couple blocks down to the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh.

Mike hesitated outside the garage, checking his watch again. He was a bit early, maybe. Maybe Micky had more stuff to do there before he was done. Mike didn’t really want to go in and bother the guys working, instead he leans against the wall to wait.

“Come on, Artie,” Micky whined at the owner of the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh. “Ya know that the kids really dug us the last time we played here.”

Artie shook his head. “I know, I know, but lately, business hasn’t been so good. And now with the Kitty Kat Klub under new management….I don’t know….”

“Don’t worry about them,” Micky said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Trust me, they’re not gonna last with their pink clown wall stencils. So…how about it?”

“Well…all right,” Artie said. “But just for two shows. I can’t afford any more right now.”

Micky grinned. He couldn’t wait to tell Peter and Mike about the new gigs he lined up.


	33. Chapter 33

“Are you looking for Micky?” 

Mike looked up as Sal spoke. “Uh, yes sir. Is he busy?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. He finished early and headed off.” 

Mike nodded. “Thank you.” He turned and headed off down the street. He’d check the club they played the other day, if he didn’t run into him on the way there he’d probably head back to the apartment.

Micky thought about stopping by the apartment, but suddenly felt ambitious and decided to see if he could land more gigs instead. He stopped by another new club that had opened a month ago and tried some a capella singing for the owner. Fortunately, the guy was impressed enough to line up a short gig for half pay next week. 

After he finished there, Micky felt especially pleased with how the day was going and decided he could treat himself to a hot dog before heading over to the amusement park.

Mike didn’t see Micky, and so headed back to the apartment to stash his guitar before heading to the amusement park. 

Unfortunately the door was locked and he didn’t have a key.

Mike sighed, hoisted his case further onto his shoulder, and headed to the amusement park, where he stood a bit back from the entrance and waited for Micky and Peter to arrive.

Micky ordered the most elaborate hot dog he could concoct. A frank that was piled high with relish, pickles, onions, several squirts of ketchup and mustard, and even a dollop of chili. He needed three napkins to contain the mess so it wouldn’t get on his clothes, but Micky was convinced with every bite that it was worth it.

After he was finished and had a chance to guzzle down a soda, he headed off to the park. Along the way, he ran into Peter. He told Peter about the gigs which got Micky a grin.

“So what did you end up doing?” Micky asked him.

“Oh, the zoo again,” Peter said. “I’m still trying to figure out if that camel knows me from somewhere.”

Micky shook his head and decided to remain silent while Peter shared the rest of his zoo story.

A few minutes later, Micky and Peter spotted Mike by the entrance and waved at him. Micky still thought it was odd that Mike wanted to bring his guitar to an amusement park, but he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it either. If that’s what Mike wanted to do, that would be fine.

“Hey,” Micky said as he got closer. “You guys want to ride stuff first or grab something to eat? I had something, but I wouldn’t mind getting some cotton candy or whatever.”

Mike shrugged. 

“I guess I could go for a bite.” And he could pay for it too, with the money he had gotten from playing earlier. 

Micky grinned as they went over to the ticket booth and bought a long strand of tickets for them to use on rides later. Then they headed over to where the food vendors were. Peter got himself a giant pretzel with mustard while Micky chose some pink cotton candy that was whipped up into a beehive hairdo.

Mike got a corndog and munched on it while he considered what all that sugar would do to Micky. Make him even more hyper, probably. As long as he didn’t get sick, Mike thought he could handle it.

Micky decided to wash down his large wad of cotton candy with another soda. By this point, all the sugar he had eaten in such a short time was starting to get him buzzed to have some fun.

“Hey, hey, let’s go on the ferris wheel. Or the roller coaster. A really big roller coaster that goes upside down. Or or, bumper cars. I love bumper cars. Or, or….”

Micky’s eyes darted around. There were so many rides that he wanted to try, it was impossible for him to choose what he wanted to do first.

_Oh dear lord._ _  
_

Mike rested his hand gingerly on Micky’s shoulder and gently steered him towards the bumper cars. Those were probably exciting enough to keep him occupied, but without so much risk of him getting sick from being thrown around the way he would be on a rollercoaster.

Micky was a little surprised that Mike chose the bumper cars first. Then again, he figured that maybe Mike wanted to warm up to more adventurous rides later.

As soon as they got there, Micky got a large, mischievous grin on his face and rubbed his hands together. It’d been a while since he had given himself an opponent for the bumper cars and he was determined to help Mike discover why he had christened himself the “the Bumpmaster.”

“Hey, Pete, could you hold Mike’s guitar while we ride?” he asked. Peter nodded and looked over at Mike.

Mike nodded as well and handed his case to Peter before climbing into a car, a very slight gleam in his eye as he got settled. Micky was in for quite a surprise if he expected Mike to just accept his fate.

Micky slid into a red bumper car, his favorite color. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, grinning maniacally. He had to point his knees outward somewhat because of his long legs, but his excitement made it easy to overlook that small bit of discomfort. 

The guy near the controls started up the cars, and Micky immediately swerved to the right so he could circle around Mike and slam him from behind.  

Mike was in a green car, and as soon as he realized what Micky was doing he threw his car into reverse to catch Micky by surprise. There is a satisfying impact and he grins, before zooming forward and away, only to come after Micky from the side.

Micky’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but he recovered swiftly.

“So _that’s_ how you want it, eh?” he said, sticking his tongue out. “We’ll see about that….”

Micky gave the wheel another hard jerk to avoid Mike’s approach from the side. He was momentarily flustered by getting hit by a girl in a blue dress, but was still able to maneuver around so he could clip the back of Mike’s car.

“Gotcha!” he giggled, immediately backing away.


	34. Chapter 34

Mike weaves skillfully through the other cars, taking a few knocks along the way but still keeping his eyes on his target. Any misgivings he may have had about this excursion had vanished. This was fun. He bumped one person, hard, then zipped back and smacked Micky again.

“Hey, no fair,” Micky whined. “I wasn’t ready.”

Even as he said it, Micky was sure that Mike wouldn’t care about stuff like that. So he shifted to trying to dodge Mike instead. Unfortunately, that meant that he would be bumped by a lot of other kids along the way.

Micky grimaced and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. By this point, it was a matter of pride. He simply had to get in at least a couple more good bumps before the ride ended.

Mike stuck his tongue out at him and continued his assault.

Micky gritted his teeth as he continued to struggle to get the upper hand. He did manage to hit the side of Mike’s car one more time before the cars started to slow down, indicating that the ride was coming to an end. 

As soon as they ground to a halt, Micky jumped up and bounced over to Mike. “We’re doing this again before we leave. You gotta give me a rematch.”

Mike grinned.

“Well if y’wanna get yer butt kicked again I’d be happy t’ oblige.” He retrieved his guitar from Peter. “What next?”

Micky placed a finger on the side of his chin and started to think. There were several options that appealed to him, but then he noticed the pleading look in Peter’s eyes.

“Ok Pete, how about you go ride the Tilt-a-Whirl?” he said. 

Peter grinned and nodded his head vigorously as Micky handed him a ticket. Peter dashed off to the ride which was only a few feet away while Micky chuckled and shook his head.

“Once he’s done, we can do something else,” Micky said to Mike. “You got any rides you really want to hit?”

“Maybe the ferris wheel,” Mike said after a moments thought.

Micky’s eyes lit up at that suggestion. “Yeah, let’s do that. Me and you. Gosharoonie, I love ferris wheels. You know when you ride it and they turn it off at one point and you’re caught at the top of the wheel? I really dig that.”

Excited about what was coming up, Micky glanced over at Peter who was currently flailing his arms about while his ride lurched from side to side. He didn’t really want to begrudge Peter his fun…but he still wished the ride would hurry up.

Mike smiled faintly. Micky really did get enthusiastic about the littlest things. He surveyed the crowd as he waited for Peter to be done on the Tilt-a-Whirl. _  
_

_I wonder what it would be like to go on the wheel at dusk?  
_

He didn’t say this thought, but he was curious what the city looked like from above when the light started fading as the sun sank into the ocean. It seemed like it would be a good place to do some songwriting. High in the air, with the music and lights down below...

Peter’s ride rumbled to a stop a few seconds later with Peter hopping out and wobbling a little as he rushed over to Micky. 

“That was groovy,” he smiled. “Can I do it again? Huh, Micky, can I?”

“Sure, Pete, but first Mike and I want a whirl on the ferris wheel,” Micky replied. “So how about I get you a pop and you have that while we’re on it?”

Peter nodded eagerly and so Micky walked over to a nearby machine to buy him one. Once he had handed him the soda and motioned for Mike to hand over his guitar, the three of them headed for the line for the ferris wheel.

Mike passed his guitar to Peter again as he followed Micky.

There were several couples and parent-child sets waiting in line already. It did seem a bit strange that they were the only set of two guys looking for a ride, but Micky didn’t dwell on it.

Micky handed the operator the tickets and got on the seat, scooting all the way over to make room for Mike. Then the bar was put in place to secure them in and the operator moved the ride a little to help the next couple into their seat.

Micky grinned. Even the parts like this he enjoyed because it was almost like getting an extra amount of time on the ride. Albeit a very slow extra few moments…

The ride lurched into motion, lifting them high into the air over the park. Mike’s usual guarded expression dropped completely as he peered out over the park in wonderment. This was cool! It had been ages since he’d last been on one of these things, and he suspected that the one he had been on before wasn’t this big either. 

He tugged his hat down a little. He didn’t want to lose it after all.

Micky noticed the expression on Mike’s face and gave him a fond smile. It was cute, seeing Mike like this and Micky was glad that they were doing something that Mike enjoyed so much. 

Almost unconsciously, he scooted over closer to him, rocking the seat just a little so he lean back and glance up at the sky.

Mike didn’t notice Micky inch closer to him, he was too busy staring out in almost childlike fascination at the world below. Everything was so small down there.

A thought occured to him, and he spoke.

“Hey Micky, which one’s your place?” He wasn’t quite ready to say ‘our place’ yet. Not just because he’d only moved in recently, but also because that seemed like kinda a weird thing to say.

Micky squinted. “I dunno. i think it’s somewhere over there.” He strained his eyes for a moment more until giving up. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to make a better guess than that no matter how long he stared at the landscape below.

Micky moved a little closer and rocked the seat again. Then the wheel abruptly stopped with the two of them one seat under the top of the wheel.


	35. Chapter 35

Mike looked up and around when the ride stopped. He was a little surprised that Micky didn’t know where the apartment was from up here. It seemed like the sort of thing he would be interested in. Unless his eyesight wasn’t that good? That might explain it.

Mind you, he wasn’t too sure about Micky moving closer to him… but he was more interested in the view at the moment rather than his personal space.

At that moment, Micky wished that the ride didn’t have to start up again any time soon. The view from where they were was spectacular and he loved seeing how much Mike was enjoying himself. It seemed a little weird to be excited over how Mike was responding to their time at the part, and yet Micky couldn’t deny that it was putting a giddy edge onto his own fun.

He move a little closer yet and pointed down at the ground. “Isn’t that Peter? I think he’s waving at us.”

Mike stiffened almost imperceptably as Micky moved closer to peer down at the ground.

“Yeah, it’s him,” he said. “He’s got my guitar and everything.”

Micky chuckled and waved back. It was then that it had finally sunk in that Mike had actually been willing to trust Peter with his guitar. He couldn’t picture Mike doing that a day or so ago. He smiled a little at the thought that maybe some progress was being made.

A few seconds later, the ride started up again and Micky sighed. He knew that the ride had to end some time, but he still wished it could have taken a little longer. 

Deciding to not dwell on the the negative, Micky grinned and rocked the seat again while jostling against Mike.

Mike shifted a bit in discomfort at the contact. He didn’t like being touched.

Micky blinked. He noticed how Mike reacted to their accidental touch and scooted back over to his side. He hadn’t meant to make Mike uncomfortable. It was just normal for him to crave physical contact with his friends and lovers. And he realized that he was quickly becoming attached to Mike which made him act on that desire subconsciously. 

A sigh was on Micky’s lips, but he managed to suppress it. He knew that not everyone appreciated how touchy-feely he was so it really shouldn’t have surprised him that Mike wanted no part of that facet of his personality. Granted, that didn’t mean that Micky wouldn’t be disappointed all the same.

The ride slowed down to a crawl as people began to get off. While they were waiting, Micky leaned forward and rested his head on the heel of his hand. “What do you wanna do now?”

Mike murmured a barely audible “thank you” as Micky backed off. He was a bit surprised that Micky had noticed his discomfort. Usually people who invaded his personal space either didn’t notice how it bothered him or just plain didn’t care. This was a good sign for their continued association.

As for what to do next…

“Dunno. ‘S long as you don’t try to take me on th’ Tunnel of Love…” he drawled, “It’s your call.”

Micky made sure to put on a dramatic pout. “Aw man, ruin all my fun….”

The wheel moved so they could get off and Micky hopped up out of his seat. He made his way over to Peter, looking around for inspiration. A brightly colored building caught his eye and gave him an idea.

“Hey, how about the fun house?”

“That sounds good,” Mike said as he took his guitar from Peter again.

Micky nodded and headed over to the guy taking tickets by the entrance. He handed three of them over and the three of them were about to walk in when the guy held a hand up to their faces.

“Hold it, bud, what is that you’re trying to take in there?”

Mike’s expression blanked.

“It’s my guitar,” he said levelly. 

“Yeah? Well this ain’t the place for it,” the man replied. “Yer going to have to leave it out here.”

“Aw, come on, man,” Micky whined. “It’s just a guitar. What can it hurt?”

“Nothing,” the man shrugged. “But it’s still staying out here.”

Micky pouted. He wished Mike had left his guitar at home, although he knew that thought wasn’t going to do them any good right now.

“I’m not leaving it where it can get stolen,” Mike said flatly, his grip tightening on the strap.

“Suit yourself,” the guy shrugged. “But you’re not going in there with it.”

“Aw come on, man,” Micky whined. “He’s not gonna hurt anything with a guitar. Can’t you let us in?”

“Sorry, them’s the rules,” the guy said. “You two can go in, if you want, but if he won’t give up that guitar, he’s staying there.”

Mike scowls, but nods his head.

“Y’all go ahead then. I‘ll just wait over there.” He nods towards some benches nearby. “Have fun.” 

He was a bit irritated that he hadn’t been able to drop his guitar off at the apartment, but kept a neutral face as he went and sat down. Leaving his guitar with the guy was out of the question. If that meant he wouldn’t be able to enter the funhouse, then so be it.

Micky sighed. As much as he had been looking forward to going into the funhouse, he didn’t want to leave want to leave Mike out of their fun. He looked over at Peter and saw disappointment in his eyes.

Still, it wasn’t enough to dissuade Micky from the decision he had made.

“Nah, that’s ok, we’ll do something else,” he said, taking the tickets back from the guy. Then he patted Peter’s shoulder. “Tell ya what, how about you go ride the mini elephants over there?”

“Thanks Micky,” Peter grinned, taking a ticket from Micky’s hand and dashing over to his next ride. 

“You didn’t hafta do that,” Mike said as Peter scampered. “You don’t gotta miss out ‘causa me.” 

“Nah, that’s ok,” Micky said as he walked with Mike to sit on a bench. “It wouldn’t have been as much fun anyway. I would have wanted to do my Jame Cagney impression in front the mirrors and Pete’s seen it a bunch already. Besides, he loves those elephants…even if they are boring.”

Micky sat down and caught a glimpse of Peter waving at him as the blue elephant he was riding slowly turned toward him.

Mike nods, but remains quiet, not knowing what to say.

“Hey, uh, are you hungry? You want to get a snack? They’ve got great elephant ears here.”

Even though he would be up for an elephant ear right now, Micky wondered if he did the right thing in asking Mike if he wanted to join him. Granted, he usually didn’t get sick riding on rides with a full stomach, but he couldn’t be sure about Mike.


	36. Chapter 36

Mike grimaces briefly as his mind conjures up an image of a literal elephant ear fried in batter. He was sure that wasn’t what Micky meant…

“You mean a _funnel cake_?” he asked. That would make the most sense, as he could see the resemblance. “You sure you won’t get sick?”

“Yeah, sure, funnel cake, whatever,” Micky said with a wave of his hand. “You want one? And don’t worry about me. I can eat anything I want and then ride stuff….as long as it doesn’t just go around and around in a little circle, ya know.”

Micky stood up and put a hand over his eyes so he could search the nearby area for food vendors. Sure enough, he found one selling fried items not too far from Peter’s elephant ride.

Mike nods. “Sure.”

Micky hopped up and headed over to the booth. He ended up getting two large funnel cakes, one with extra powdered sugar and one with less in case Mike wasn’t big on that much sugar.

“Here ya go,” Micky said, holding up one toward him. He took a large bite out of the one with more sugar before Mike could even touch the other funnel cake.

“I thought y’were only gonna get one,” Mike said. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to eat the entire thing, although he was a bit surprised that Micky had remembered how he wasn’t too keen on excessively sweet things. He tore a piece off the less sugared one and popped it in his mouth. It really was pretty good, hot and fresh from the fryer.

“I thought you might want your own,” Micky shrugged. “Besides, I like ‘em nice and sugary. If you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

Micky took another large bite out of his, letting the powdered sugar coat the edges of his mouth.

Mike smiled faintly as he ate another piece of the funnel cake.

Micky finished his funnel cake in one last huge gulp and licked his lips. He knew that was a sloppy way to get the excess sugar off his face, but he didn’t think Mike would mind. 

Once he was done, he wiped his face with his sleeve. He knew that the funnel cake wouldn’t be enough to keep him satisfied all day, but at that moment, he was more concerned about figuring out something to do that Mike could take part in…and that he’d actually enjoy.

Mike ate his confection slowly, but did end up finishing the entire thing. He watched Micky thoughtfully, but remained silent. He wasn’t the kinda guy to talk without having anything to actually say.

“Hey, Pete should be done soon,” Micky said. “Is there a ride you’d like to do once he gets back? You know, something you used to really like as a kid?”

“Never went as a kid,” Mike said quietly. “Didn’t have the money.”

Micky bit back a sigh. A part of him felt as if he should have known that Mike would answer that way, and he regretted the question. However, there was still a chance to turn this awkwardness around.

“Well, ok, but if you had gone as a kid, what would you have done? Ya know, if money wasn’t a concern.”

“I always wanted t’ try one of those strength thingies…” Mike eventually replied. “Y’know, hit the bell, win a prize.” 

“Yeah?” Micky said, a grin forming on his face. “I bet you could win a prize. A big prize. You wanna try it?”

Mike nodded, a half smile on his face. He knew himself to be fairly strong despite his skinny frame, gained from hauling around heavy things in whatever odd jobs he had managed to get. 

“Sure.”

Micky grinned and guided Mike over to the game in question. It was only a few feet from where they were waiting for Peter, so he figured that Peter could find them easily. Not only that, but they could play without any concerns about what to do with Mike’s guitar.

“Hey,” he said to the barker, waving a ticket at him. “My friend here wants a shot.”

“So you wanna test your strength young man?” the barker asked as Mike stepped up. Mike nodded, and took the mallet silently. The barker’s banter, a quip about Mike’s build, died on his lips. Mike handed his guitar to Micky and hefted the hammer. He raised it high and brought it down hard on the target.

Micky hugged Mike’s guitar close and practically squealed as he watched the weight rocket toward the bell. The satisfying ‘ding’ that came a second later was almost anti-climatic. 

The barker was clearly surprised, but Micky just grinned and applauded.

Mike set the hammer down, a small smile on his face as he picked out his prize. He chose a brightly colored plush lizard with a big silly grin and a long floppy tongue.

Micky grinned and moved closer so he could get a better look at Mike’s prize. “That’s really groovy. What do ya think you’ll call him?”

“Dunno,” Mike said as he draped the lizard over his shoulder. “You got any ideas?”

“Hmmm,” Micky said, putting a hand to his chin. “He’s too cute and friendly looking to call Godzilla. How about Nessie? Like the Loch Ness Monster? I always liked that old legend when I was a kid.”

“Nessie Nesmith,” Mike drawled. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah, it does,” Micky said. “Nesmith is a groovy name. And Nessie sounds good with it. You should go with that.”

Micky gave the plush a pat on the head. He somehow knew that Mike would win something, but was a little surprised that Mike had chosen a prize like this. It felt like something he would have chosen if he had won.

Not that he would have. Micky had little confidence in his string-bean arms to be able to win at that game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's probably worth noting that one of the authors' real-life nicknames is Nessie.


	37. Chapter 37

Mike looked around. 

“Where’d Peter go?”

Micky blinked in surprise. He had thought that Peter was still on the ride just a moment ago. But now, Peter had disappeared.

“Aw man,” Micky said, kicking at a clump of dirt. “Pete is always running off if you don’t keep a close eye on him. Come on, let’s go look for him. We’ll try the rubber duck games first.”

“Good grief.” Mike followed after Micky as they wove their way through the crowd in search of the third member of their party.

Micky called out Peter’s name several times as they searched. It was a little frustrating to have to do this, but Micky had grown somewhat accustomed to it since they had started living together.

It was only a few minutes later that they found Peter standing in front of a stand with a foot long hot dog in his hands.

“Oh hi guys,” Peter said with a slight wave of some of his fingers. “Look what I got. And I got to put on as much ketchup and mustard as I wanted.”

Mike shook his head slightly. He was a bit surprised at the amount of concern that Micky had shown at seeing Peter gone, but then again maybe there was good reason. He hung back, not really wanting to get involved. 

Micky let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, that’s great, Pete, but you could have told us where you were going. You remember what happened the last time you wandered off around here. That traveling salesman who tried to sell you to the circus?”

“Gee, I’m sorry, Micky,” Peter said, contrite. “I promise, I did not let anyone talk me into signing or buying anything this time. Honest. Well, other than the guy who sold me this hot dog. Isn’t it great?”

Peter held up the hot dog again, and Micky had to admit that a part of him wanted to get one for himself.

Mike blinked. Well THAT certainly explained Micky’s concern, though he did wonder how often something like that actually occurred. Still, it had to be often enough that Micky was well served to be worried about his housemate’s whereabouts.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Micky searched his pockets. “Hey Mike, would you like to share one of those hot dogs if I get one?”

Honestly, Micky was good either way. The hot dog was tempting, but he wasn’t as hungry as he was a little while ago. And it might be more fun to ride more rides rather than spend too much on amusement park food. 

“Uh, I’m good, thanks,” Mike said. He couldn’t possibly still be hungry? Mike was feeling plenty full from what he’d had already. Then again, he'd had to make do with so little for so long it didn't take much to fill him up.

“Oh. Ok, let’s skip it,” Micky nodded. He could always grab something on the way home. He watched Peter eat for a moment and then guided the bassist over to a nearby bench. 

“Here, you watch Mike’s guitar while you’re eating,” he said. Then Micky turned back toward Mike. “So…what do you wanna do now?”

In truth, Mike wanted to go home. The commotion of the amusement park was starting to get to him. He didn’t want to tell Micky that though, in case he got upset. Instead he just shrugged.

Micky checked his wallet. If they each just went to one more attraction for each of them, they could probably afford some Chinese food on the way home. And at that moment, not having to worry about dinner later sounded like a really good idea to Micky.

“Hey, how about we go on the merry-go-round?” he said. “Then we can let Pete do something and we can go get something to eat.”

Mike nodded. That would work.

“Sure.”

Micky grinned. Sure, the merry-go-round was a bit childish, but Micky loved it anyway. What it lacked in thrills, it made up for in having that wonderful giddy feeling of spinning around.

Micky rushed over toward the merry-go-round and was pleased to see that it was just getting ready to stop. That meant that he could pick just about anything he wanted. 

As soon as it was clear, he immediately went over to claim the tiger. He put his hand on a horse next to him and waved Mike over.

Mike joined him, and sat down on the horse. He didn’t really feel like talking, instead he waited for the ride to start as Micky bounced with excitement.

Micky grinned at him and continued to bounce until the ride finally started. As it slowly sped up, Micky’s smile grew wider and wider. He flung out his arms from time to time, enjoying the speed and the way the scenery around him whirled. 

Micky laughed and kept looking over at Mike, wondering if Mike could enjoy it as much he was right now.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delays in updates, but we haven't been able to write lately and we're running out of backlog to post. Thank you for your patience! :)
> 
> (grumpily pokes RT)

Mike relaxed a bit, the motion of the ride soothing even if the music was… not. Still, his expression softened.

Eventually, the ride slowed down to a stop and Micky slipped off his tiger, holding out a hand to Mike to help him off his horse.

“Hey, we’ll let Pete do one more ride and then we’ll get some food. Or did you want to do something else before we went home?”

Mike hopped off his horse, accepting Micky’s help. 

“I’m good,” he said, as he retrieved his guitar and Nessie from Peter. On impulse, he took off his hat and put it on top of Nessie before placing her on his head.

Micky smiled. “She looks good in your hat. Not as good as you, but still…”

He laughed and gave Peter his last ticket so Peter could find one more ride to enjoy. 

“How about some fried rice and sweet and sour chicken?” he asked Mike as soon as Peter left.

Mike stared at him briefly as he put his hat back on and repositioned Nessie on his shoulder. Did he just say he looked good in his hat? Most people thought it was silly, if they said anything about it at all.

“Yeah, uh.. that sounds good,” he said as Peter took off.

“Great!” Micky beamed. “I love Chinese food. Hey, we should get some wontons too. With some dipping sauce. I love the chicken ones.”

Micky looked around to see Peter rushing over to a ride involving spinning cups. Even though he had eaten just a little while ago, thinking about food was enough to make him hungry again.

While he was waiting, he looked at Mike again. He thought it was cute when Mike put the hat on Nessie, but he really liked the hat on Mike’s head even more. 

Mike pats Nessie on the head.

“You… you like my hat?” he eventually asks in a quiet voice.

Micky blinked. “Sure. It’s really groovy. And I like how it looks on ya. It goes with your eyes. I think.”

Micky gulped. He was pretty sure he sounded like a babbling weirdo, but he couldn’t help it. Mike had a strange effect on him. One that he wasn’t used to. All he did know for now was that he really wanted to be around Mike and get to know him better.

“Most people think it’s silly,” Mike said. “Wearin’ a wool hat when it isn’t cold out. I jus’ like th’ way it feels, y’dig?” He was glad that Micky hadn’t made a big deal out of his hat. He liked it, and hated being made fun of for it.

“Yeah, I dig that,” Micky nodded. “If it makes you comfortable and you like it, that’s all that matters. And I dunno…it seems…very…you, ya know.”

Micky frowned slightly. It felt strange and maybe somewhat dishonest to be encouraging Mike to be himself and do what was comfortable while he straightened his hair…which he didn’t really care to do…just so he could avoid people looking down at him.

Mike smiled faintly. 

“Thanks.”

Micky smiled back. “You’re welcome.” Then he tapped his foot and looked around for Peter. “Man, when is he gonna get done with his ride? I’m getting hungry.”

Mike looked at him in disbelief.

“Again?”

Micky whirled around to look at him. “Sure. Don’t you know that when you think of Chinese food, you’re hungry less than an hour later? Besides, I want some egg rolls. We should get egg rolls instead of wontons. Unless you wanted wontons. I can go either way. What do you think?”

He knew he was babbling again, but Micky couldn’t help that. Hunger and the giddy excitement of running around an amusement park tended to have long lasting effects on him.

Mike took a step back, momentarily worried Micky was angry about his comment, but he quickly realized that this was just Micky’s brand of weird.

“Egg rolls are good…” he said, still a little thrown by Micky’s sudden burst of hyperness.

“Groovy,” Micky said. “’Cause I love egg rolls. That was the first Chinese food I ever had. Well, other than rice. But rice isn’t always Chinese food. Like, my dad used to make risotto and that’s rice, but it’s not the same, ya dig? Ah, finally, let’s go, Pete.”

Peter was running toward them which interrupted Micky’s train of thought. Once they were leaving the amusement park, though, it was quick to start up again.

“Fried rice is good too. I like it when they put little bits of pork in it. And the peas and carrots. I really like them too….”


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's three am and i don't have anything clever to add. enjoy~

Mike walked alongside them, not interrupting Micky’s babbling. Peter didn’t seem too bothered by Micky’s rapidfire chatter, so Mike took that as a sign that this was a fairly normal occurrence.

He did wonder if smacking him with Nessie would get him to quiet down, though.

“Oh and potstickers are good too,” Micky added. “But if I eat too many of those, I end up getting heartburn late at night. Dunno why. It’s not like they’re spicy or anything….”

He continued his lecture about Chinese food until they reached the restaurant. One of the waiters handed him a menu.

“Thanks, um, we’re gonna get takeout though, ok?” he said. He held up the menu toward Peter and Mike. “You guys see anything you wanna add?”

“Enough for the rest of us?” Mike drawled in a rare display of snark. Peter chuckled at that.

Micky let out a high-pitched giggle. It shouldn’t have been that funny of a joke to him, but something about Mike saying it made it funnier than usual.

“I think I can do that,” he said with a smirk. “I just might need an extra buck if I don’t have enough.” Micky scanned the menu and then turned around while clearing his throat.

“Ok, we’ll take two of the pork fried rice, two orders of sweet and sour chicken, an order of egg foo young with the gravy and two orders of egg rolls. Oh um, and don’t forget the soy sauce and fortune cookies.”

Mike waited quietly, smiling just a bit more, relieved Micky hadn’t taken offense. As such, when Micky’s prediction came true and he was a little short on the total, he had no problem with fishing out a couple coins from his pockets to make up the difference.

Micky mouthed a ‘thank you’ at Mike as Mike handed over the money. Then they all sat down at an empty table near the door to wait for their food.

“Hey, do ya wanna watch something on TV while we eat?” he asked. “Or do you wanna listen to more music?”

“Music.” Mike wasn’t really in the mood for TV.

“That’s groovy,” Micky nodded. “I’ve got some more R&B stuff we could listen to. Oh and a couple country albums if you’d rather go with that.”

Micky drummed his fingers along the tabletop. The smells wafting from the plates being carried by the waiters made him even hungrier.

“Do you believe in fortune cookie fortunes?” he asked Mike.

“Not really,” Mike said. He wished the food would hurry up.

“Yeah?” Micky replied. “I sorta do. Some of the stuff doesn’t make sense, sure, but some of it seems like it’s kind of wise. Oh and there was that time that one of ‘em said I’d ‘receive a wonderful gift’ and my mom and dad bought me my first drum kit.”

Micky bounced in his seat. He hoped he’d be able to restrain himself from grabbing an egg roll to eat on the way home.

“Yeah, maybe. I guess they do have good advice sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Micky nodded. “My favorite though was the one that said ‘you will want another fortune cookie’. Cause it’ll always come true.”

Just as he said that, one of the waiters came forward with a large brown paper bag that was bulging at the sides.

“Here you go,” the waiter said, handing the bag to Micky. “Hope you enjoy.”

Mike chuckled slightly at that as they rose and headed out. They weren’t too far from the apartment, though it was still far enough for Mike to start wondering if Micky ever ran out of stuff to say.

“Groovy, thanks,” Micky grinned at him. He waited until Peter could open the door for him before rushing out to the sidewalk. He walked quickly, not wanting the food to get cold.

“Hey,” he said, peering into the bag. “I think they threw in an extra carton of rice. Neat.”

“Maybe there will be enough for the rest of us then,” Mike drawled as they headed up the steps to their building. 

Once inside, he put his guitar back in its place by the couch and sank down onto the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Micky smirked at him. “Hey Pete, get us some forks and spoons, ok?”

Micky pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and sat down next to Mike. He began to fish out all the white cartons of food, nudging open the flaps so he could check out what was inside each one.

“Oh wow, they added some extra egg rolls too,” Micky grinned. “We should go back there some time and give those guys a big tip.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ta-daaa

Mike nodded as he took his food, shifting himself away from Micky some. He didn’t feel like talking beyond a quiet ”Thanks”.

Micky noted how Mike had moved away from him and had gotten quiet again. He was a little hurt, but decided to focus on eating instead.

He opened up the carton that he thought was another container of pork fried rice and was surprised to see something else inside: a roll of money with a note clipped to it. 

Micky immediately shut it and stuffed an egg roll into his mouth. He was sure that wasn’t supposed to be in there, but he didn’t know if he should tell Mike or Peter about it or not.

Mike ate in silence, reflecting on the day’s activities. It hadn’t been too bad, he supposed. It had been fun to beat Micky at bumper cars. Still, he would have liked to be able to be alone now. He wasn’t good with people, particularly after being in such a high energy place like an amusement park. It fried his nerves.

Micky waited until Peter and Mike were absorbed in their food before taking out the money and note and stuffing them into his pocket. Then he grabbed a carton of rice and took a huge bite.

A tiny part of him was tempted to keep the money and throw the note away. Such a big windfall would be useful, especially with an additional roommate now. But it didn’t take him long to discard that idea. That money was sure to be involved in something crooked and it wouldn’t be long before someone would come looking for it.

Mike noticed Micky’s flurry of motion, but put it down to his normal high energy.

Micky put down the rice and grabbed another couple of egg rolls. He wasn’t sure how long it would take them to figure out their mistake, but he hoped that he could at least finish his meal before going out to fix this problem. After all, who knows how long he’d be gone?

“Hey, uh, anyone else want some of this egg foo young?” Micky asked, his words tumbling out at a brisk pace.

Mike looked over at him. 

“Micky?” he asked quietly, a slightly concerned frown on his face. Micky seemed suddenly nervous about something. Mike snagged two egg rolls for safekeeping before continuing. “Is… is everything alright?”

“Oh sure, yeah, everything’s great,” Micky said, nervously laughing. “It’s great. How’s the food? Did ya want some egg foo young? I can share.”

He hoped that Mike didn’t notice how agitated he was, although he knew he was doing a lousy job at staying calm. Still, Micky figured that there could be some trouble while getting the money back to its owner and the last thing he wanted was to drag Mike into some kind of hassle.

Mike stared at him.

“No? How about you, Pete?” Micky said. Peter shook his head. “Ok, I think I’ll eat it.”

Micky opened the carton with the egg foo young a little wider and grabbed the cup of gravy. He quickly devoured the egg foo young so he could get going as soon as possible.

Mike didn’t want to be nosy, but he also didn’t like how nervous Micky had suddenly become. 

He had become entangled in less-than-legal business before by accident, but if these guys were actively involved in something then all bets were off. He could not allow himself to ignore such activity. That was actually part of the reason he’d been on the streets; he’d discovered that the guy who’d owned the place he’d been staying at had been running a money laundering thing out the back. As soon as Mike’d learned about it he’d left, a bad taste in his mouth.

He hoped that wasn’t the case here. He could not in good conscience associate with criminals of any sort.

Micky wolfed down the egg foo young as fast as he could and jumped up to get a glass of water from the fridge to wash it down.

He thought about where he might go to get rid of this money. He pulled the note out of his pocket and scanned it.

_“Tonight. 11 pm. At the Mermaid’s Cove. Bring the suitcase.”_

Micky sighed and stuffed the paper back into his pocket. He really did not want to go to this meeting as he was sure that it would lead to something bad. Instead, he figured that it would be better to go back to the restaurant.

He gulped down his water and headed back to the front room.

“Hey, uh, guys, could you save me a couple of egg rolls? I need to run and do something.”

Mike frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Go and do what?” he asked, “What’s goin’ on?”

Micky gulped. “Nothing, nothing…I uh…I think I left my wallet at the restaurant. And, and my lucky rabbit’s foot. I don’t wanna lose that. So uh, I’ll just go and get it. I’ll be back in no time.”

Micky dashed into his room for a moment and got some change out of a jar on his dresser before going back out to the front room. “I can pick up some soup while I’m there, if you want.”

“I saw you put your wallet in your pocket. An’ I never saw no lucky rabbit’s foot.” 

“That’s because I tend to be pretty lucky,” Micky said. “So I don’t need my lucky rabbit’s foot most of the time. But uh, I don’t want to take any chances.”

Micky edged toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few. Oh and I’ll bring some of that hot, spicy soup. You guys will love it.”

He dashed out the door while Peter leaned back and ate some more rice. 

Mike rose and followed him out. He didn’t like being lied to. 

“Hey Mike, where are you going?” Peter called out after him. After Mike walked out, he let out a long sigh.

“I guess I can put the food away for now,” he said.

Meanwhile, Micky was sprinting toward the restaurant. Every once in a while, he looked over his shoulder to see if someone was following him, but didn’t notice anyone.


	41. Chapter 41

Mike hurried after him, his expression grim. He didn’t think Micky had spotted him. He stopped outside the restaurant. The door would jingle if he opened it, and if this was truly an illicit operation there wasn’t anything he could say to keep Micky from being suspicious. Instead he waited outside, peering through the window.

Micky shuffled into the restaurant. He didn’t see the waiter who had given him the food before or the person he took the order from. He spotted a bell on a counter near the cash register and smacked it.

A few second later, a short, glum-looking woman trudged out of the kitchen. “Yes? What did you want? A table or….?”

“Uh, no,” Micky stammered. “I uh, I was here earlier. I had ordered a bunch of takeout….”

“You have a complaint?” she sighed.

“Not exactly,” Micky replied. 

Mike saw his chance as one of the patrons opened the door to leave. He caught the door, muttered a quick thanks, and slipped inside, careful to avoid Micky’s nervous gaze.

“Look, um, I think you gave me the wrong order,” Micky said, shuffling back and forth in place. “I got my food and all, but someone stuffed this note inside….”

Micky pulled out the note, but the woman held up her hand and shook her head.

“That wasn’t me,” she said. “That was Carl. Carl said you had a special order. You’d have to take it up with him…and he’s already gone for the day.”

“Oh,” Micky frowned. “Well…when will he be back?”

“I don’t know, I’m not the manager,” she said. “Look, if you don’t have a complaint, I need to get back to work.”

She dashed off to the kitchen leaving a very glum Micky Dolenz behind. 

Wrong order? That sounded promising. Maybe he was letting his imagination run away from him, and Micky wasn’t actually involved in criminal activities. At least not on purpose. Mike stepped forward, fed up with Micky’s evasions, and deftly plucked the note from Micky’s hand.

“You say this was in our food?” he asked as he looked it over.

Micky gaped at him. Where had Mike come from? It was like he had appeared from nowhere like some kind of specter.

“Hey, that’s… give that back, man,” he protested. “I said, I’m taking care of it.”

He crowded around Mike, trying to grab the note back from him.

“Micky!” Mike snapped, “I’m not gonna stand by while you get yourself into trouble like this!” He steered Micky into a booth and sat down across from him. “If this really is just a mix-up, then, then I wanna help.”

He was surprised to find that he really meant it, even though he’d only known him for a few days.

Micky blinked in surprise. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he had accidentally stepped into trouble. In fact, it happened with alarming frequency. However, he was used to people simply being exasperated and annoyed at how much trouble he got into. He certainly wasn’t used to someone insisting on helping him out. Especially not someone he’d only known for a couple days.

He looked down at the table and drew little circles with his fingertip. “Mike, I… I just didn’t want to bring you down, ya know,” he mumbled. “It’s just…you don’t have to do this.”

Mike twisted his hat around in his hands, suddenly shy again.

“If uh… if it was, y’know, within my power t’ help someone? And I didn’t? An’ they uh got hurt or somethin… I… I don’ know if I’d be able t’ live with that. An’ since we’re roommates an’ all.. well I gotta help.”

Micky stared at him, stunned. Sure, Mike didn’t seem like the type who would leave someone high and dry, but this seemed like going an extra mile for someone he hardly knew. 

“Well ok, but… what should we do? They said that this Carl guy isn’t here and if we go to the police, they’d probably just think we were in on it or something.”

Mike shrugged, biting his lip.

“We can’t keep it,“ he said slowly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Micky huffed. “And we can’t give it to Carl. Maybe…maybe we should just show up at the meeting place and give them the money and then leave, ya dig?” He knew that this wasn’t the best idea. It didn’t even sound good to him as he said it. But at that point, he couldn’t think of anything better.

Mike nodded reluctantly. He had been thinking something along the same lines, but had hoped that Micky had a better idea. 

He just hoped the people involved would be reasonable.

“And we’re not bringing Pete along,” Micky added. “He’s not good at handling this kind of stuff.” Actually, Micky didn’t feel like he was either, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up. 

“Come on,” he said. “We should get back home before we have to go out again.”

Mike nods and follows Micky out.


	42. Chapter 42

They walked along the main streets in Malibu before cutting across alleys and side roads. Eventually, they made their way to one of the seedier districts; the people hanging around were less starving artists and more desperate criminals.

It wasn’t long before they spotted a building with a giant plastic mermaid standing near the door. A garish neon sign above announced it as the Mermaid’s Cove.

Mike blinked. He’d expected the meeting place to be somewhere on the beach. That was how it usually happened in movies, right? This didn’t look good at all. It would be a lot harder to escape if things went south.

Still, they had to do something. Keeping the money was out, because sooner or later someone would come looking for either the money or the goods. Better to get things straightened out as soon as possible, than wait to get ambushed on the way home from the store.

He squared his shoulders and adopted a carefully neutral expression, which was just _slightly_ more inscrutable than his usual default expression.

“This th’ place?”

Micky shrugged. “It’s gotta be. How many Mermaid’s Coves can there be?”

He could tell that Mike didn’t like the look of the place, a feeling he shared. Still, it was a crowded street with other clubs and businesses nearby. Micky liked to think that no one would do anything too violent just out of concerns about witnesses.

“Come on,” he said, motioning for the door.

Mike nodded, and followed Micky inside.

Inside it was _exactly_ as seedy as he’d expected. The smell of cheap booze assaulted his nose as he looked around. It wasn’t overly crowded, but there were enough people that it wasn’t immediately obvious who their contact was.

He forced down his nerves. He’d been in dives like this before, sure, but only as a last resort when looking for work. Not as an actual patron.

Micky slid over to the bar. The bartender didn’t look like the guys you saw in the movies who were sagely and nonjudgmental. In fact, this guy looked like he was itching for a reason to tear someone’s head off, but he knew he had to start somewhere.

“Um…we’re looking for a guy,” he said. “Or guys. Uh, we’ve got something from Carl.”

“And I’ve got beers to sell,” the bartender said with a frown. “You going to buy something or what?”

Mike had no intention of buying anything from the bar, not after having worked behind similar bars in the past. The odds of the place having even minimal food safety regulations in place was not something Mike cared to evaluate firsthand.

“Uh, sure. Got any local beer?” Micky asked. He kept looking around the bar, but couldn’t see anyone giving them any special attention. 

The bartender nodded, filled up a mug and slid it over to Micky. He hadn’t bothered with checking Micky’s ID, but Micky didn’t figure he would.

“You want anything?” Micky said, turning toward Mike. “Or you wanna just sit down?”

Mike shook his head. He just wanted to get this over with, and without getting themselves killed. Besides, the last thing he needed in this kind of situation was alcohol dulling his senses.

Micky took that to mean that Mike didn’t want any beer and steered him toward a table near the center of the room. He sat down, took a sip of his beer and the sat a bag containing the stuff from the restaurant onto the middle of the table. 

“Uh, I guess we wait,” Micky shrugged, slowly nursing his beer. It wasn’t great, but at least it distracted him from how nervous he was.

Mike nodded, surreptitiously scanning the room as he waited, giving no outward sign of the tension he felt. One wrong word or glance would be all the provocation needed for the bar to erupt into a nasty brawl. Mike could hold his own in a fight, up to a point, but he wasn’t too sure about Micky. Plus there was also the small matter that several of them could probably snap him over their knee with relative ease.

Micky managed to slurp down half of his beer before noticing three guys in trench-coats heading toward them. He gulped the rest of it down and scooted a little closer to Mike.

“You got a pick up from Carl?” the biggest of the thugs said. Micky nodded, pushing the bag toward them.

“Y-yeah, Carl, that’s right, Carl,” Micky jabbered. “So here ya go. And we’ll just be going now.”

Mike really didn’t like the looks of this. Of course it would be the nastiest-looking bunch. He kept his mouth shut. Experience had taught him that his accent would only get him into trouble, as it marked him pretty clearly as an outsider to this area. 

“Hold it,” Thug #1 said. “You stay right there. Where’s the suitcase? You were supposed to bring it.”

“Um, there’s was kind of a mix-up,” Micky said, laughing nervously. “See, we weren’t supposed to get this, and uh, we don’t have a suitcase or anything. So, so we’d thought we’d give you your money back and be on our way. Ya dig?”

Micky laughed again, but the look on the head thug’s face wasn’t promising.

“What do you mean, you don’t got it,” he said. “Carl had instructions. He was only to give the money to the guy who used the secret passphrase. And you used it or he wouldn’t have given you the money. So where’s the suitcase?”


	43. Chapter 43

“There’s no suitcase,” Mike spoke up, his voice level despite his racing pulse. “It’s all just a big misunderstanding. He must have said it on accident, and Carl thought we were the guys. So we’ll just give you the money and be on our way.“

The head thug narrowed his eyes at Mike. “No mistake. We made sure to make that passphrase as fancy as possible so there’d be no mistake. It was a take-out order, and you had to get it exactly right for Carl to give you the money. You have to be the ones.”

The two guys behind him nodded in unison. Meanwhile, Micky looked over at Mike with panicky eyes.

“Well we’d’ve taken it up with Carl but he’d left by th’ time we got back. An’ coincidences happen.” Mike thought of how he and Micky both went by their middle name. “I’d hate for y’all t’ lose what appears t’ be a significant investment, so why don’t y’all take your money and we’ll forget we ever saw each other. And y’all can have a chat with Carl about passphrases. Otherwise, we’ll be on our way.” 

Mike stared at them as he stood, one hand tightly gripping Micky’s arm. He hadn't meant to play up his accent, but he spoke slowly by nature and it did become more pronounced when he was nervous.

Micky was grateful for the hand on his arm. It helped him stand up without his knees knocking together too much. However, the comfort he got from that vanished with the way the head thug stared at him while moving closer.

“And how do we know you won’t go running to the police with a story?” the man said with a sneer. As if on cue the thugs behind him began cracking their knuckles.

“Well uh 'cause we came here first? We… we don’t want to get in no trouble either sir.” Mike’s careful control was slipping, as his voice cracked as he spoke. He edged backwards away from the table, still gripping Micky’s arm. 

He hoped Micky was a fast runner. They would need to make a break for it if they wanted to get out in one piece, and soon.

“We don’t want to get into any trouble either,” the thug said. “And it seems to me the easiest way for that to happen would be to make sure no one talks.”

Knuckles were cracked again as the men moved closer. It wasn’t long before the few patrons that were there got up and shuffled out of the bar, clearly aware of what could happen next.

Micky gulped and eyed the doors. There wasn’t anyone in the way yet. One good dash could still mean freedom.

Mike continued to inch away.

“A-actually I just remembered. We have a-a thing we’re supposed to go to! That’s right. Remember, Micky? That thing at the place so we really shouldn’t be late come one Micky lets gooo……” He turns and attempts to flee, pulling Micky along with him.

Realizing that Mike was heading for the exist, Micky dashed alongside him, quickly overtaking him while also not letting go of Mike.

Micky ran that way with Mike for several minutes, dashing in and out of alleys and even all the way through a couple of clubs that they had passed. He didn’t dare look behind him to see if they were being followed, certain that if he did see them, he’d panic and slow down enough to get caught.

Well at least he didn’t have to worry about leaving Micky behind, Mike thought as they both took off. Somehow, despite their headlong flight through multiple crowded areas, neither one of them collided with any bystanders. And while it was true that Mike was very much afraid for his skin, he found he was also kinda enjoying himself as the two of them wove through the crowds.

They came to a halt a few blocks away from their apartment, when Micky tripped over a curb.

“I uh… I think we’ve lost them by now,” Mike said as he caught Micky to keep him from falling on his face.

“Huh?” Micky said, still a little too stunned to be able to follow what Mike was saying. 

Eventually, he calmed down enough to realize that they were in a familiar neighborhood and that there was no sign of the villains.

“You sure, we lost ‘em?” Micky asked, looking around. “I don’t want them to know where I live, ya dig?”

Mike nodded and released Micky’s arm. He understood the concern, but he was fairly sure they hadn’t managed to follow them. Micky was _fast_ and they had covered a _lot_ of ground as they ran.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Thus relieved, Micky panted for another minute before another feeling took over: excitement.

“Did you see those guys in that bar? Man, it was just like those gangster movies, ya know? ‘Hand over the case, see, and no one gets hurt’. I didn’t think people really did that outside of movies. I wonder if they had those nicknames guys like that always have like uh, Fingers Barton or Three Toe Joe.”

Mike sighed slightly. This guy was ridiculous. Just moments before he had been running for his life and now he was doing gangster impressions.

“We should head back,” he said, interrupting Micky’s tirade. “Peter’s probably wondering what happened to us.” And Mike needed someone else to be the focus of Micky’s attention. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel the crash approaching.

“Yeah, sure, but don’t ya think they probably had names like that?” Micky gushed. “Man, I wish I could have asked them, but they’d probably get all sore about it.”

Micky’s stomach rumbled. All that running had burned off a lot of the food he had just eaten.

“Peter better not have eaten all the egg rolls,” he said as he walked up to the apartment.

Mike rolled his eyes at that, then promptly kicked off his boots and sat down in the corner beside the couch. He really needed some quiet now, what with the combined excitement of the amusement park and the meeting with the thugs. 

He wondered, briefly, what had been in the suitcase, but then decided the answer was probably something like hard drugs. Nasty stuff, to be sure. Not something he wanted to get mixed up in.

Micky spotted Peter noodling around with his banjo and went into the kitchen to see what leftovers could be found. He scooped up a large portion of fried rice, three egg rolls and some chicken onto a plate and plopped down onto the couch to eat.

“Hey, you know, this makes me think of a movie that I saw last week,” he said between mouthfuls. “This guy picked up the wrong suitcase at the train station and ended up being chased all over the country by spies. Hey, I wonder if those guys were actually spies. Ya know, just not very good spies.”

Mike grunted a negative. He doubted it. Spies probably wouldn’t be posing as the sorta people to beat the stuffing out of some poor shmucks who accidentally got mixed up in a drug deal or whatever that was.

He wished Micky would stop talking. He didn't have the energy to spare on parsing his nonstop chatter.


End file.
